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The Other Side forums - suitable for mature readers! > The Other Side forums > Creations
I'm always excusing myself,
But now it's getting hard to tell
The reason why I even care.
Increasingly I'm unaware.

Instead of bettering myself,
I'm crawling deeper in my shell.
The whole poing that I am alive
Seems to escape me at this time.

I've never known how to behave.
I've never strayed far from the grave.
I need to get up off the ground
To force myself to make a sound.
Its nice.... in a morbid way. May I ask how you came to the idea of this poem?
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