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we are code Apr 2015
What's the point if i will die?
I cant make this time fly.
I play Russian Roulette before bed,
Maybe tonights the night ill be dead.

I will transform this tiny room,
Into a beautiful tomb,
In my locker you will find,
The fake wall and what's behind.

Pictures depicting the real me,
So everyone can finally see,
What's its like living my life,
Before you twisted the knife,

I learned something from school,
Anf I dont need a math tool,
Six out of six equals one.
Bullets in brains equal none.

Nothing means no more pain,
Like pollen washed away by rain.
There might be more,
Ill know when i hit the floor.

That's the last thing I said,
Now I only taste lead.
I only needed one blunder,
To end up six feet under.

Six feet below here i am.
Turns out heaven was a sham.
I now taste lead for an eternity,
Because i let pain define me.
we are code Apr 2015
Writing feels right within my brain.
It sends all my demons down the drain.
It might be a little much to ask,
But i want you to perform a task.

Think about the events of this day,
And put your words in an array.
Good and bad have no intrinsic worth,
So write and let your brain give birth.
This poem is from my Almost Anonymous Poetry blog on tumblr
we are code Apr 2015
Authority figures dictate,
Goals upon which i fixate,
Consume precious time,
Emotional status is sublime.

Life in the physical reality,
Doesnt determine mental causality,
Events leave the soul bereft,
Silence is the ultimate theft.

Reality is perception,
We are no exception,
Everyone is the same,
Regardless of faces or name.

Carbon organism wasting space,
Are you still you without a face?
Are you really an individual?
Or the remaing residual?

— The End —