this is another ****** up poem about a ****** up life
about a teen who's too ******* lazy to even make it rhime
she's constantly haunted by demons
she's not even sure she'll make it a year from now
her escape is poetry, and she's not even good at it
she should have just killed herself long ago
insted of turning this depressed
lonely
fat
invisible
different
scarred
anxious
and most of all unloved
maybe a few people like her but she hates herself
she's just another little girl afraid to grow up.
just another girl with a heartache
though this is different
she's not getting over it she's done permanent damage to her own body
and worst of all

*this girl is me

As you walk through the city street
there's something that you may not know.
What's going on under your feet
only metres down below.

Life is multiplying fast,
migrating sometimes up above,
to forage through your garbage bags
gathering the free food that we all love.

We carry with us little friends
that pack a really powerful punch
and there's nothing they appreciate more
than human blood for their lunch.

With the lesson of the past forgotten
by you humans up above
where millions died because of filth
and everyone lost someone they'd loved.

Yet still you throw away your waste,
you leave it lying on the street.
Disease is on it's way to you you
from little forager under your feet.

Call this disease what err you will.
Black-death, the pox but it's on its way
and all because you can't be bothered
but in the end it's you who'll pay.

In the meantime we will breed en-mass,
our babies growing, getting fat
and all can deliver to you this fate.
I really do love being a Rat.