Born in a cyber age
of this global disruption,
"What's your hobby?", - you'll ask.
I'll reply: "Self-destruction."
It's been a while, lol
Miss Peggy was so young and sweet
That nobody would love her,
She strolled contented down the street
Although her heart was broken.
She sticks the needles into hearts,
She's dancing with the demons,
She turns her hurt into an art,
In the February season.
She's eating liver after eight.
She's drinking blood for dinner.
Miss Peggy is my soulmate.
I see her in the mirror.
We rarely think the nicest people
are able to commit a crime,
but be aware:
the purest kind of evil
lurks in the kindest soul alive.
I woke up several times this night, I don't know why.
Then, this came to my mind
She was never enough,
and that's why she was crying,
lady "Nobody's Type",
whom I was glorifying.
In the kingdom of dreams
she will stay for too long.
She's the queen of white sheets,
the prettiest girl
There was a girl in my hometown who decided to do a rhinoplasty because she had a tiny **** on her nose.
She never woke up after that...
"Alive failure is better than a dead masterpiece"
Nobody cried. Nobody cared.
A couple of eyes were in despair.
And on the tombstone, it was inscribed:
"Committed social suicide".
Sometimes it seems like my heart is rotten,
it can't feel anything but the pain,
and I can't touch it, 'cause wounds are open...
I am my calm and my hurricane.
Sometimes I think I've concurred the monster.
But then, again, the image starts clouding.
They say the human body is 60% water...
Well, that explains why it feels like I'm drowning.
I deeply apologize for the amount of I-s and my-s put into this poem.