Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
sparkles-asparagusPoems
power lives in the sticks of the youthful retrogrades peddling away at toy cars and glass bombs So much potential weakened by the seduction of mediocrity called to the middle by pigs in suits of glamor dancing to hollow songs in a crater of mistaken humanoids all prying for the final meat Popsicle and it belongs to him with all his shady remarks and sincere disregard for the gravitational potential energy of your existence He WILL break you morph your limbs into callous claws to weak to open the locks which chain you to the village whipping pole He along with his mutiness will laugh as he warps your brain into a dough shaped plato carving barely resembling an ***** His thievery is not a simple repercussion of his damaged limping stare it is clear he does not want to be fixed as suffering is his favorite playmate, he waits in the faces of all those that swing alone injecting shots of mind numbing cubicle anti-rage into his neck veins this is his piece as you dry heave the blood of your loyalty onto parchment for his inspection you must learn to swim paddle that canoe out of the iridescent concrete showering of his affection for this is not your jigsaw
0
Jan 6, 2011
Jan 6, 2011 at 10:51 AM UTC
A Sand Box of one
power lives in the sticks of the youthful retrogrades peddling away at toy cars and glass bombs So much potential weakened by the seduction of mediocrity called to the middle by pigs in suits of glamor dancing to hollow songs in a crater of mistaken humanoids all prying for the final meat Popsicle and it belongs to him with all his shady remarks and sincere disregard for the gravitational potential energy of your existence He WILL break you morph your limbs into callous claws to weak to open the locks which chain you to the village whipping pole He along with his mutiness will laugh as he warps your brain into a dough shaped plato carving barely resembling an ***** His thievery is not a simple repercussion of his damaged limping stare it is clear he does not want to be fixed as suffering is his favorite playmate, he waits in the faces of all those that swing alone injecting shots of mind numbing cubicle anti-rage into his neck veins this is his piece as you dry heave the blood of your loyalty onto parchment for his inspection you must learn to swim paddle that canoe out of the iridescent concrete showering of his affection for this is not your jigsaw
Written by
sparkles-asparagus
Jan 6, 2011
Jan 6, 2011 at 10:51 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem