Poetry for me is a way of living, it comes out of nowhere and I have to write it down. How I write, what I write, I decide. I am not asking you to be judgemental. I am gifted with the ability to see beyond the obvious.
may you burn in hell killer of children you took away their choice to live you ignored the panic in their eyes you did not listen you did not talk you, as always just killed how can you get high on blood and gore that too of innocent children no sweat flowed from you only bullets, only bullets
yet you forgot if you snag even one life thousands will rise to incinerate you you deserve nothing less for diffusing the stars
that spacecraft is waiting planets are aligned let me tread slowly into space but first I must tangle with you
call me a lunatic or a loser if you must you are aware I have to spread my wings one of my endeavors to explore the beyond leaving behind my very own angel
I am forever spinning into dreams whatever you say, I won't sway I will come back someday born on a Christmas day
"that crowd is akin to shroud I wish for silence to be loud"
what chains tie her what deranged mind did this the haze in the mind chains her, the strain has almost deranged her lying there, she thinks of filet hunger does not allow to feign pride
enflame, her eyes burn she shivers wishing for her cape thoughts of rescue help sustain while we exchange glances she will not cave in that is not an option at all
my story is all so false, she chose to lie on the bright floor surrounded by floral walls to be photographed as a victim of domestic violence or maybe something else
"words turn around the mind. helplessly we give in"
