"atten" poems
poor mother earth
bent but not broken
bearing her babies pain
like a monkey on her back
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 7:10 PM UTC
Jeg har ikke noget hjem.
Jeg er hjemløs i mine forældres hjem.
Atten år og uden et hjem.
Det ødelægger mig indeni.
Min psyke bliver ædt op.
Jeg er ikke hel.
Hør mit råb,
mit råb om et hjem.
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 5:58 PM UTC
My corruptions from the inside
Are My destructions from a blind mind
Stumbling from pit stop to rest stop
Needing more, but running out of time
Craving some real love
Receiving that hypodermic bug
From fiending
To once again I'm clean
To get spun
Around
The insanity has yet to be seen
Or yet to be believed
That I might have a problem
A medical disease
That leaves me on my knees
Asking please, no pleading please
To God , to Satan, to any power
Magical, mystical, sweet, or sour
From a genie in a lamp
To that ***** I mean witch in her tower
To combine the blue with the red pill
To create a cure or maybe just a crazier thrill
**** there it goes again
The side of my brain
That isn't quite sane
But ingenious plots it still maintains
And executes
Just so we can taste forbidden fruit
And for a moment be in bliss
Where everything makes sense
But then we fall, no crash
Going down to fast
Burned up by atmospheric friction
Unable to grasp full attention
Atten hut
Can't stand strait from spinal tension
And acrobatic catorsions
you
That's right you
addict brain
I'm fighting to just maintain
Some normality
While you fight to obtain every psychological abnormality
That a shrink can write a script for
So you can once more
Numb our brain
So no longer you and I are at war
Because we feel nothing
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 11:32 PM UTC