Whilst we destroy what we are,
Another’s suffering does nothing,
Nothing at all to alleviate our pain.
That we in the west live in luxury,
Does nothing either: why should it?
We are spawned from choice,
Conceived via free will, and ******,
Dropped into a cradle of filth,
Finally crawling, learning to hate,
Not knowing why, nobody knows why,
Well do they? Do they?
Emerging and ready to die, yes,
Already damaged and broken,
Bereft of the truth of life, sick,
Perishing lost and alone, uncaring,
We the ******, misunderstood,
Chastised, ‘we never had it so good?’
We who inherited the earth, yeah,
We have it good, no struggle, none!
And therein lies our issues, true,
We have no need to fight, have we?
So, we fight ourselves, cutting,
And we live to cause suffering,
Our own agony screamed wildly!
Go on, frown, older generation,
Go on, you know you want to.
Call us, shake your wise heads,
Whilst we destroy what we are.
©Paul M Chafer 2015
Not my usual ‘hey, see that Wolfen Warrior in the clouds there with the dragon?’ but a reaction to the poems of, and inspired by, Alice Liddle. At the time of writing, I was also listening to the album, Tragic Idol by Paradise Lost, UK Goth Metal band. I read lots of poems about self-harm, addiction, lost and alone, youth in turmoil. I write my novels for troubled youth, to urge them never to yield. I have worked as a volunteer for troubled youth, but only today, whilst having a bad day of my own, through reading Alice and hearing ******* rock, did I find something new, and the poem was born. Hate it, loathe it, just a darker side of me I rarely reveal. I know some will love it. Thank you Alice.
