Roses are red , and soon will be dead.
Why am I writing when I should be in bed.
Here I sit with my mind all a flitter, thanks heavens
I am not addicted to twitter. My days are so busy
and the house such a mess, don't even ask me why I feel
so much stress. I have a nice house and great husband too
but sometimes I feel I've bitten off more than I can chew.
I have dreams... I sure wont come true, and in the meantime I am
becoming a haggard old shrew. I know this rhymes, and I don't really
care. Because this is my way of blowing hot air.
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1 comment:
Hey, your dreams can come true! I have to keep believing that or I just get too depressed... I like your poem.
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