There are moments in life Experiences Where the minutes feels like hours The days feel like years The weeks A lifetime Looking up at the sky Or the clock in the watershed While it was done to you To me The strangling, the fighting The crying, screaming, tossing and turning Over and over again They say it’s the last time That they’ve changed Born again But No It’s not true And here they are again The daddy and the mommy Names given to flesh-tearing monsters And lusting jackals Gleeful devils and Shadows on the wall Laughing and ******* Pulling knives and nails form their womb To bury us in an keep us there Fiends wrapping themselves in avarice And sweltering babes roasting over the iron fire Where fingers and tongues push and pull Your insides Thrusting and moaning to weekly Mixed tapes and infomercial gurus Batting eyes to static gods and god haters Feasting in my tears For the last time before my very own fingers Become jagged spears and Raging teeth To pull apart the wolf in sheep’s clothing Jerking his **** over your face and whispering Bibles verses to an invisible Congregation Who holler and praise The almighty lord Who watches over us and Places bets with the Devil in the aftermath of Melting, dissolving, sacred bond That is till death does them part In sickness or in health With broken bottles, wheel jacks Kitchen blades, handguns, bare-knuckle fists And those friends wonder why Why I’m alone and Why I can’t do the same things they do Speak the way they speak Understand what is so easy for them School is a foreign concept that plagues our life Its mere system mocks us Saying I’m We’re different, special, needed attention Counselling, treatment, guardians Medications. Lost So lost are they For not seeing the truth But the lies are more convenient To the slothful ignorant The fearful cowards Wrathful misguided Wrongful accuser Lustful solicitor All groping, kissing, grabbing Slapping, hitting, tearing, bleeding *******, licking, copulating Red-eyed mongols throbbing over and Drooling and spitting Beating and killing Flinging bodies against the wall and Smashing the heads of children over the Burning bridges of sycophant minds Taking away the innocence Laced with birth Where our loveless bodies harden And become blank and Emotionless And see the painted veil That hid the original art Of the first painter of the sky
The thing about being suicidal is, No one knows you are till you’ve already done it.
And people say those who off themselves are selfish When all they want is a release.
They still love you, And are assured others love them.
But it’s not about love. It’s when vengeance and fate aren’t enough