Jun 2010 01

Don’t tell me lies to calm me down
I know I’m screwed up, let me fight that battle
Why is it that your criticism is so blatantly outward?
Have you the inability to view what you are?
Or are you simply afraid to confront it
You make me sick
All these stupid games you play
For the sake of having a good time at another’s expense
Do you find it enjoyable to alienate?
Grow up
Look around
Must you live in a bubble?
Not everyone is given equal opportunity in life
Some have to sacrifice more
For some, all
The cold world
It was not always this way
The games that men play with society destroy beauty
Ruining creativity with a chuckle
You’re stripping away
Everything I adore
For Money
Pure, sweet, potent symbol of power
Corrupting the ambitions of the hopeful, misleading, a slow killer
Not only of people, but of the very compassion
On which this day was founded
Come back
Open your eyes
See your true intentions
Do you spend for need, or gluttony?
I am no religious man, still
Morals are tainted
By pride
Look around
Don’t squander your profits on waste
You need not what you see, but what you don’t
For those who don’t understand
You don’t know hunger
A frustration inexperienced
By those who have been nurtured to a beautiful rose
Some say that a weed, is stronger
Yet still, it is persecuted
Ripped away
Is it the fault of the weed?
Nay, it was made so by the seed that birthed it
And the way it was raised gave it strength, while creating an inadvertent annihilator
Blame those who do wrong for doing so
But you see not
How come?
When you constantly oppress
How can you expect to create a rose out of untilled, dry soil?
Then curse it for being what it is
It does not understand what it does
Quite Simply
It knows nothing else
To grow up alone leaves you strong
Like a fortress, in more ways than one
Guarded, yet afraid
Yet under constant siege
From the world around, yelling “Come out!”
And when one does so
It is to see
And to be forced to run back
And build like there is a tomorrow, and you fear it more than ever
Emotional pain caused by young love
Can never compare
To Hate
Not of the world around
But the self-created world inside
Holed up inside, oblivious to the ever changing world
Connected only by telegrams
Miniscule ideas
Tainted by the messenger who sabotaged
From the beginning he skewed it all, leading to scorn
But he knew not of his folly
And so
There you remain
Until you die a sad, lonely death
Without flowers, or friends, or family to love you
Simply a dying question
Why did I live my life as a hermit?
And a quiet answer:
There was no other way

[by lonelyboy77 on Thu June 3, 2010 03:28:39 pm]
I know what I am, quite blatantly put, I try my hardest to be what I'm terribly not. to be locked in a cage, like a bird longing to fly, is almost as bad as i feel inside. I hate what I've done to her I can't deny yet something keeps her coming for another try I enjoy her, I do, but not as much as she does, too. Some people are weeds, growing strong and thick, while others are flowers, pulled apart from one swift wind or the brisk walk of man who can't decide if he wants this, or that. as you may think yourself as I weed, I, on the other hand, think I the seed from which sprouted this young, bright flower, nice, but unable to stand on his own. He stands and wobbles in the evening breeze and loses his petals with very much ease. he can't stand stand on the edge of a cliff, and cling like a hawk staying alive he'd falter and flail as the wind pulled him down and be thrust towards the vast abyss at a frightening speed. He cannot know who he is, without having someone he is not. So there you go, dear fellow. The point of view of the other. The one you grow to hate and resent, is alike you in more ways than one.

[by brohemian rhapsody on Fri June 18, 2010 02:59:50 pm]
cry more f*g

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