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I have a poem I want to type up here. It was published in my school's art book, but only because I was forced to submit.
Numb.
That's the sensation of the screaming city.
It's battered soul just a shell of it's former glory.
The once magnificent splendor
Has wilted and left behind a simple memory.
The leaves on that tree have withered,
And the trunk hath rotted away long, long ago.
Maybe it has been lost,
Under years and years
Of death and turmoil.
Stagnant and evaporating,
From the sweltering hate.
Lazy fledglings,
Sitting behind their master.
Whispering of what was once.
What had been.
And what will become.
Cold and bleeding.
The vicious slashings and cursing.
Melting the bodies,
And killing them all.
Savage and curling.
A writhe of agony.
The saint,
The savior,
Their scapegoat,
Has been cast off,
Into the oblivion,
Of volitile hatred.
Excuse the barbed wire,
Warping through your veins,
Polluting your blood,
And starving your brain.
Never look down,
Or back,
Or behind.
But people still do.
They look,
I looked.
I found why they say not to look.
They have little purple men,
Gathering up your mistakes to distribute to other failures.
Having hope is hopeless.
Hate is the way to go now.
Live in fear of meeting your end,
Though death is welcome here.
Lift me to my second feet,
So I may fall once more.
You promised me a safe haven,
But instead,
You threw me into the darkest depths,
Of my deepest fears.
Torturing my soul,
Ruining my mind.
The end of the world is drawing close,
In the form of all those cast out.
Forced to pay for things they did not do,
No one will be protected,
From the swarm of two legged bees.
And while they sting you,
Bite you,
Maul you,
You'll wish you had given them a second chance.
 Xunny Bunny · Sun Sep 13, 2009 @ 10:34pm · 0 Comments |
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