Posted in Poetry

Submission – by Michael Marrotti

SICK LIT MAGAZINE

You would’ve

thought

I was attending

a funeral

by the sight

of tears

swelling up

in my eyeballs

This breakup

was unexpected

this death I

could never

have predicted

This life

which was mine

equipped with

altered perception

is now buried

with my dealer

inside that casket

Each day I

slowly rise

from the depths

of that burial

dirty as can be

endeavoring

to get clean

I used to be more

than grey skies

in the forecast

liberated from

flu like symptoms

catapulting

over obstacles

There was a time

when I would kill

murdering the pain

came easy

now with your death

and departure

the resource of

my pleasures

have been beaten

into submission

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Michael Marrotti is an author from Pittsburgh with a chemical imbalance and lack of patience. His writing has propagated the small press like chlamydia in Beechview. He’s been faithfully volunteering at the Light Of Life Rescue…

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