"Last Call for the Perfect Winter, and Drowning in Shards of the Strange Rage"

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
this is anger, frustration, despair, sadness, injustice, and the obvious truth all rolled into one....I'm sick of it all, and I have had enough of the fake people, and the fake promises made by the "god-like" people who have made themselves this role, because it causes me to suffer, for one, and I am referring to people like the "bad" doctors, that only care about material things, instead of the wellness of their patients...for example....plus I am just depressed, so I wrote this...I am in a bad mood right now, so I let it out...I'm sure a lot of people could relate to some parts of it.....

Submitted: February 26, 2009

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Submitted: February 26, 2009



I am drowning in an empty pool of distress

contemplating the outcome of that, I will address

to the common man, this probably makes no sense

but the winter is freezing cold and I've become intense

in my flesh, I am weaker than simple humanity

a society built by madmen creates bribed sobriety

but a bottomless pit of melted wax is all that I can touch

I wish this fear I captured would just filter in my crutch

pressure; I don't even know where I'm going

all I am sure of, is that my pathetic life is slowing

I am constantly pulled down by the hollow presence

of all my distinguished, yet sure-failed attempts

to not lose my patience or my own willpower

the decaying air I breathe and a shredded wallflower

I am and always will be without the promised "you"

I am dead to "you all", so I bring "old" to all the "new"

any of the things that are pettier than just nothing

turning them into my version of Gollum's precious ring

I really don't want to play alone, anymore with "me"

I hate myself, I hate "you", and nothing is real, see

No, of couse you can't, because the minority of the blind

are more than just a few, yet you are all one of a kind

we all share the same amounts of grudge and guilt

the same anger, and the same feelings that wilt

at the drop of a tear, we all fall down and we cry

nothing struggling to show for, but our own massive lie

we still believe we are going to somehow recover

but the dreaded darkness continues to hover

waiting for the moon to become blackened

just to attack us, at that single, given moment

when it's too late, and instantly we are gone

for the tears flowing earlier were not enough fun

for the crowds - not enough entertainment

just a stamped label of crime and punishment

I'd like to take my fist and bust through the glass

of the clownish window in which you drive past

in all of your shiny cars, glazed into false perfection

money, caviar, wine, and then supposed self-reflection?

you are nothing to me, but a fake plastic "whore"

so why do you take pieces of me, more and more?

why pretend to care, like you have an answer?

is their something you can do to save "her"?

I mean me, not some object you insult and grin at

while I'm trying to sleep, you just laugh and get fat

fat with unwholesome ideals of superiority

and I am that person who spits on your "conformity"

a secret society, a poisoned autumn season

just give me a minute, and I'll give you a reason

to take what you get, and shove it into your skin

for a change, I would like to carve out my bare sin

and place my stupid emotions within a steel cage

for I am bound and tied down by this strange rage

yes, I am angry, I have stated time and again

please, take this away from me and cure my pain

let me live a life that is not a heartless "ghetto-poor"

I want to have enough just so I can support

my family is suffering enough because of me

I am drowning all of us together indeed

I want to erase myself definitely, for a burden I am

and this life has turned into nothing but a sham

I feel like a waste of space, and I am lonely

no cure, and I continue to lose what was once me

I am no one, a nothing, a zero, an empty spirit

no desire to go on, and I think this is it

one day I will be dead, and I guess that's all

this is not a threat, yet a matter of a last call

I am so angry, I could burst into a million flames

this panther I've shapeshifted into is untamed

if only I had the strength to move forward

I would rip apart those nailing me to this board

I am crucifying myself, and withering my soul

I am entering the hunger of the mouth of the reaper's hole

I am swallowed by the rain, the flames, and the splinters

with a mind as frozen as mine, it can burn up a perfect winter

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