Rock-bottom – a poem

When you are at your lowest,
it becomes a fest,
for your enemies.
There are no easy remedies.
Rock-bottom,
being in Sodom.
You feel like a moron,
not having your shit together.
But everyone can arrive in stormy weather,
you’ll have to hope for things to get better.
Aspire to adapt,
becoming apt to improve,
always on the move
let nothing kill your groove.
It takes hard work,
stabbing yourself with a fork to stay awake.
Nobody get’s a free cake.
Unless it’s your birthday,
but that’s only once a year if you have friends or family I’ll have to say.

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