My own basic needs are missing.

Say, where have they gone on this day?

I will be drinking and kissing,

While April showers into May.

Intellectual barmecide,

Lurking beneath the cracked floorboards.

It is as I have prophesied;

With shadows guiding me onwards.

As the wind increases with speed,

And my thoughts becoming consumed.

I need to see if I still bleed,

Otherwise, I am marked as doomed.

To leave a house that is haunted,

This frown has to turn upside down.

And to achieve what I wanted,

A deep cleanser is needed now.

Another octametre poem here. I feel like I could’ve added more to this, but my mind is scrambled eggs right now, so perhaps sometime in the near future I’ll add onto it.

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