Drunk again. Alone <br />And I don’t even like vodka don’t you know? <br />But hey, there was this boy, and right now I can’t remember his face <br />Or his sweet song. <br />But, I know come morning, <br />He will be back in my head, breaking my heart, <br />Killing me slowly, once again. <br /> <br />I sometimes think, <br />Your heart breaks the day you meet that One, <br />And you freely hand to them, <br />One equally measured half of You, <br />Ruled out and sliced with a guillotine, <br />Maybe you don’t notice it’s gone, <br />Cause they’re in your house, and in your head, <br />In your dreams and in your bed. <br /> <br />Till they leave and then you feel it <br />Really feel it. <br /> <br />So then comes the day you decide, <br />F**k it, and, <br />You do the same to someone else <br />And the girls in the corridors call you a slut, <br />And you have to face this poor boy’s eyes every day at school, <br />And you wish you could love him, cause, <br />One text from you would brighten up his day, <br />And a smile would light up his life, <br />But. <br />You are still hurting and to smile would kill you. <br /> <br />So you drink too much, and write some words, <br />And in the end they are meaningless, filled with useless conjunctions, <br />Meaningless juxtaposition and lack of syntax. <br />You forget how to spell, and your fingers are heavy on the keys, <br />But hey, its Word, they spell check this s**t right?<br /><br />Amy Carmichael<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/they-spell-check-this-s-t-right/
