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natashia-coburnPoems
Is it difficult to imagine? You must learn and adapt To the heartless ways of the world They rip at the throats Rub salt in the wounds And the minds are strewn. They are quite like hounds. As the heart are cut How they slowly, steadily bleed But, shame, it happens everywhere As hopes are brutally crushed They lay broken, uneasy, dying Is it difficult to imagine? It is truly sick and twisted. This is how the world is the world you thought you knew They attempt at humor Yet create solitude; empty madness Torture for the mind; never trust The colours of the world dissipate They shed the tears You see it for what it is Vile.
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Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 1:49 PM UTC
The Ways of The World
Is it difficult to imagine? You must learn and adapt To the heartless ways of the world They rip at the throats Rub salt in the wounds And the minds are strewn. They are quite like hounds. As the heart are cut How they slowly, steadily bleed But, shame, it happens everywhere As hopes are brutally crushed They lay broken, uneasy, dying Is it difficult to imagine? It is truly sick and twisted. This is how the world is the world you thought you knew They attempt at humor Yet create solitude; empty madness Torture for the mind; never trust The colours of the world dissipate They shed the tears You see it for what it is Vile.
Written by
natashia-coburn
Canadian
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 1:49 PM UTC
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