****.

this isn't poetry
just some badly disguised prose
as I lament while presenting
unclear images of a black rose
clearly a red one won't suffice
mostly because an "altered"
state of mind

surely my ineptitude stems
from this vicious and cruel world
whose inhabitants have no interest
in accepting their inner humanity
it has nothing to do
with my inability to clearly
express ideas and notions
simple thoughts through complex emotions
the world is at fault
******* world!
it's everyone's fault
except mine!

the ******* continues
it goes on and on
each voice to its own
all of them unanimously accepting
how the world is broken
how this isn't poetry
how souls get shattered
as ignorance blooms
rejoice!
no one is at fault
it's the past that haunts
creeping into the present
destroying youthful innocence
rejoice!
no one is at all fault
we all listen and accept
with open arms
idleness and neglect

this isn't poetry
it's just a waste of tim