Read this poem. Don't delete this thread

Is it bad or terrible?



Sitting on a Shelf

I'm sitting on a cold oven shelf.
You left me here while you were falling
Out with yourself, and wetting
Necks with tears from corners leaking

Ceiling better hold your room up all
Through next time lets a drunken draft in.
You're not shorthaired; you'll stay warm,
But keep your shoelaces done tight

Skin on those chicken breasts you froze. Can't
Reach the kitchen, cannot see for dogs
Lapping bowls of alcopop.
Don't cross the road; don't think of them

Pens run out and printer paper Pam,
Get out the house and doing something
With her chilly blush if she
Is made of wood and has a face

The music you'll be playing won't be
Dressed for the occasion in a gown
And unwashed, staring at sand.
The blinking won't let you to bed

Lamb mince you're sure it doesn't hurt them.
Keep them in the cellar; piglet crawls
Into a box and dies, then
Take him home away from this place

Matt paint the bedroom, paint the stairs with
Cans that welcomed you to oven heat
Me solid stone and strange, while
You defrosted bag of peacock

Tail end of a holiday spent screaming.
Don't stop feeling down and staying in;
Get back and give yourself some
Toil and muddle up the order

Me around the red ring fountain;
Back upstairs and pressing buttons like
A social soldier charging
Into sleep.