"berated" poems
I want to compel,
all the people to tell,
of their travels,
their hardships, b
and times that went well.
The love that was shared,
and hate that was bared.
Is a part of your life,
if you truly cared.
Twas fear
that berated the souls of the earth.
With pain contemplated,
the flame lost its hearth.
But when claims no one stated,
begin to unearth.
The stains we created,
start losing their worth.
For what is fear without worries to fuel it? Darkness may make it,
but governments mule it.
Realize,
this fear isn't real,
and misinformation,
is all you've been fed.
Then you'll start to ponder,
is this life even real?
Is there any legitimacy,
in all the things that they've said?
There is nothing hiding
in your closet or bed.
And there are less evil people,
than in the news that you've read.
This idea was created,
so they wouldn't be blamed.
But you won't be jaded,
you cannot not be tamed.
The people that faded,
that still are unnamed.
You fight for their memory,
cause they'd do the same.
You Stand for their ideals,
And keep them all close.
Feel all of the feels,
cheerful or morose.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 10:03 PM UTC
What do you want from me?
I ask my memories,
Wondering why they’ve come out to play,
Tap dancing across the wood floors of me mind,
Creating a cacophony that echoes off my skull.
What do you want from me?
I hear them when they respond, “We’re trying to make you safe.”
I know they’re attempting to prevent tumbling off the same rocks,
Trying to ensure I don’t crack bones on the same hard places.
They are telling me to avoid having pieces of me stolen again.
I couldn’t protect myself at thirteen or sixteen,
So I stumbled down the same dark alleys until I was 18
And paid a grander price in an even darker cave at 19.
I’m 22 now, and I’m still picking up the pieces out of the mouths of men,
Men who cut me down until I was a conglomerate of bite size, fuckable pieces.
I was taught not to scream when my pieces were being consumed.
Who needs to be a whole human anyway?
If tip money went into my pocket,
If he told me he loved me afterwards,
If I was alive to see the morning light,
Who was I to complain?
And when I stopped wanting to see the sun rise,
They gazed upon my pieces
And berated me for the wreckage.
What do you want from me?
Is a question I only know how to ask myself.
I have never dared ask those who stole from me
Whether they came to me in good faith,
Never had the wisdom to lock up what was valuable.
I have never demanded of anyone what their intentions were,
So I ask again: What do you want from me?
What am I expected to provide?
Am I allowed to be a whole human here?
Or will you require I be bite size again?
I am desperate to be safe in the same flesh that once enticed those who hunted me.
What do you want from me?
I’ll tell you what I want.
I want to go home whole,
Knowing my skin is all mine.
May 10, 2022
May 10, 2022 at 12:50 PM UTC
Surrounded by flame i see the false memories
Tricks of demons burnt away
Demons of hell couldnt do this
Demons of my own creation
Demons who seek to pull me down
My demons,the ones who swim and i cant drown or choke
The ones who tear me apart all day
The ones who say im worthless and stupid
The ones who say im fat and ugly
The ones who say i do not deserve happiness unless i suffer for it
The ones who wont let me be selfish no matter how small the wish
The ones who taunt me with childhood memories
The ones who cant let me forget what is real
The ones who laugh when i cry because my dreams betray me
I cannot escape
I will never escape myself
I am alone in my mind and even though my love tries he can never understand
There is not a love on this earth and in this place that could understand
I betray myself and berate myself to keep things simple
I break myself down so no one else can
I break myself down to build up a wall with my heart
My castle around my heart is my soul
Made to be scary
Made to defend a void that is behind it
Made so in order to let down my walls i must break myself
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 5:05 AM UTC
He walks through a wood once every month
He takes the same route near The Wishing Pond
He meets with the Collector in a secluded building
Who never fails to purchase every new painting
The man was an artist, the Collector was a fan
His works and his reputation was known throughout the land
The Artist had it all: a nice house, a loving wife,
friends in every town and city, and wealth to last his life
Every month, another painting
Every month, the Collector's money
His life was set, his life was perfect
All he needed as an artist was a self portrait
So this next month's painting would be special
For when he would pass, this will be his memorial
He started on an early morning, standing in front of a mirror
With skill and patience, shading and texture, the first sketch was done
The painting process took a few days
Without sleep or food, for hours in his room he stayed
Near the end of the month, the portrait finally done
Proud and exhausted, the artist exclaimed, "This is a special one."
The next day, he readied his portrait to take
To the Collector, who was expecting to be amazed
With a glance at the picture before he could leave
He noticed many flaws and said, "I want a perfect me"
He sent a letter explaining the delay
To the Collector, disappointed, he lessened the pay
For days, the Artist fixed each flaw
The big ears, the small nose, the feminine jaw
Every day he found a new imperfection
But after months and months of fixing, he achieved satisfaction
He took his self portrait on his once monthly walk
To the Collector's house, pass The Wishing Pond
He tripped on a rock, dropping his portrait
Falling into the pond, his art was ruined
The canvas had sunk, the water grew murky
The paint spread around and clouded before him
The cloudy colors swirled in the water's waves
The Artist, distraught, sat in heartache
A figure rose from the water, the colors had faded
He recognized it immediately as the perfection he painted
His portrait was alive for to not be was imperfect
His creation looked back at him and exclaimed, "I am The Artist"
Throughout the years, the portrait had adopted The Artist's life
With perfect skills, perfect fame, and even the love of his wife
The Collector, impressed by its own work, gave it double the pay
He also terminated his contract, he and the Artist had made
The Artist was left with nothing
His life stolen by his painting
Embodied perfection had taken it all
Living wishful thinking, alive from The Pond
He tasked, and pushed, and berated himself to achieve perfection
He succeeded, but lost everything to his perfect version.
Feb 28, 2011
Feb 28, 2011 at 10:46 PM UTC
She stood, amidst tutts, wore a mini skirt...
(From the first decade). Took a
Step forward, pioneering the teenager
Long fair hair, parted mid section
Cascading over her cherry cupcakes
Remembering first impressions aren't always
Accurate, they still berated her without
Knowing her. First appearances were all
They knew and could rely on...back then
Why would she wear a skirt so short if
Respectability meant anything, closed off
They too had been judged, time dulling
Their posture straight backed. Space lacked
Room to be filled with meanderings of another
Era, balancing her book atop red curls and
Speckled egg skin. Recalling the longing
Admiration of someone who dared to wear
Their inner choice on the outside
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 12:25 PM UTC
I sit back on the computer,
Browsing through the pages of those I grew up with
Those people who thought they knew everything about me
I sit back and see what they’ve made of themselves
This girl is single, living alone with her four cats
This other girl now has two kids, unmarried and no degree
This girl is engaged to her high school sweetheart, yet they don’t look happy
This other couple broke up, wait they’re back together, nope spoke too soon
This guy is working at the local supermarket, never went to college after his arrest
This guy gained a few pounds, no longer the star athlete
This guy dropped off the map
See being the quiet girl, I learned secrets
I knew the deepest secrets of every single one of these people
Because while they sat in the back of the room chattering on about their so called problems
I was sitting in the front,
Listening
This girl had two boyfriends, and even more flings
This girl slept with four guys in one night
This girl’s boyfriend cheated on her, over and over again
This couple would sneak off in between classes, during lunch, or school assemblies
This guy was the trophy child, who gave away free drugs to his friends hidden inside pens
This guy was the quarterback; everything handed to him on a golden platter
This guy was the school stud who was hiding a relationship with his boyfriend by sleeping with every girl he could
Back then I listened because I wanted to feel apart of something bigger
I wanted to be one of them,
I wanted to be invited to all those weekend bashes
I wanted to be the girl people felt awed by, inspired by, idolized
I wanted to be part of the “in” crowd
So I stood there, day after day
As they teased me
Berated me
Shattered my confidence
Tearing apart everything I was
Telling me I would never amount to anything
Telling me I was fat, ugly, stupid
That I unworthy of love
Telling me…
I
Was
Nothing
Let them tell me that today
I see everything of what they have become
Those people I wanted to be are no longer there
Their confidence shattered by reality
The best days of their life ended the day they left high school
Mine on the other hand are just beginning
I am the girl who is wanted
I’m the girl who can go wild
I’m the girl who can be passionate
I’m the girl who is adventurous
I’m the girl who brings pride
I’m the girl who is the athlete
I'm the girl who travels the world
I’m the girl who is unashamed of who I am
Because by pushing me out
My oppressors gave me everything I needed
The strength to try
The courage to dream
The ability to think
The confidence to be unique
Independence to thrive
But more than anything
My oppressors gave me desire
Desire to be more than they believed I could be
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
Surely you,
Jester.
Unduly-expressed.
Lambasted,
insulted.
Abrasive ...
au naturel?
I think...
Surely not.
Unless,
Had the aforementioned not just the will to rip through my throat,
but too the audacity to penetrate the inclement root you call heart.
Well, I had made my decision.
and lo!
I would have stood by it too;
had my own form of insecurity been given the chance to wilt.
Not further admonished on
how to think. how to act
How 'one' should primarily be.
Instead I lie bludgeoned,
berated;
and by the very thing that
antecedently spurred
a cascade of unsophisticated giddiness.
That too was far from the cry of a
Devil-may-care persona.
I would almost weep the lost opportunity,
Whereas I should simply, and most ardently
Just be.
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 1:56 AM UTC
I berated her
But she was stronger than me
I put pressure on her
But she was always magnificent
I judged her harshly
But she was always right
I tried to control her
But we both wanted freedom
I made her weep
But she made me see
I kept her locked away
But she survives
I tried to quiet her
But she sang, she danced
I asked her to take the lead
She said there's none to take
I mistrusted her
She waited patiently
I wore my checkered suit
She wore nothing but jewels
I spoke to her timidly
And she answered eagerly
I invited her in
And we arrived.
Feb 28, 2021
Feb 28, 2021 at 5:32 AM UTC
We, the children of a system that awards you simple papers
That state 'he/she has achieved what we deem quality'
As we are all judged and graded in exactly the same way
Because they promote individuality unless it's intelligence
'We all learn differently, and at different paces'
Is an often preached sermon of our progenitors these days
Yet I know more about synonyms for ancestry and parents
Than how to survive once our papers begin to mean nothing
So here I'd like you to tell me what is considered knowledge
And I'd ask of the older generations to insert customary wisdom
Because more adults have spat quotes to me like gospel
Than tought me what I really need to know and value
I've got a track record spanning back almost two decades
Of being sorry for just being myself at all times
So I think my teachers should be proud of themselves
To know that the things they preach to me really get through
You see, homework and exams mean almost nothing
To those who need to really think on their feet
Because this same system idolizes the memory
Mistaking it for a wealth of rawest knowledge
So I love it when they say school is too easy on kids now
Rewarding losing and not promoting any ambition
Because I've been berated for attaining success at any level
Due to grades that define me not successful enough
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 8:08 PM UTC
Torrents of vapor ridden wind, snatched at her hair.
Below, rattled the rapid, riotous and vast, rippling sea.
Churning, like a chewing, charming serpent's lair.
Once long ago I knew her; with time she left me be.
On the edge she was, with will to leap t'wards the horizons.
The brittle cliff would not give way, for even it was curious.
Dare say all of nature reacted for the most prurient reasons.
Even the sky descended to watch, with a lightning so furious.
She beheld no fear and the sky wept with thunderous applause.
Her bare marble-like features glistened in the gleaning of the gloom.
Why she stood there, triumphantly, tempting, terror, for what cause?
It will never be known, for she never was, in a time before this doom.
The earth shook like the hands of a beleaguered, berated old man.
It erected monoliths. Volcanoes, pluming molten magma skyward.
The red glow brought heat; earth thought to please her, or so was its plan.
The elements wrestled for the better view of that beauty stalwart.
Never had a sight been so majestically violent, so mightily tame.
Where she stood, should and would forever more be a sacred place.
The tempest of the elements raged on, though none would win the game.
A silence, softly, settled the rambunctiousness, and halted their race.
The skies parted with a sad and lowly somberness.
Every elated, embittered, element safely put to rest.
As the sun swept aside all their postulated, pettiness.
Rays of the sun showered her with bright white zest.
The lady, she moved with unfathomable grace.
She tilted her perfect head up to the skies.
With the slightest of a smile shook her face.
Like all before, she left them there surprised... and forever, there she stood.
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 3:21 PM UTC
A man and his brother set on a task
An undertaking attempted many times by others
To no avail nothing and no one could succeed
But their vision was to them possible
It seemed that this feat was not meant to be
The world told them to quit
If God wanted it to be he would have giving you the tools
Yet they were undeterred in this goal
They toiled and worked
They slaved and sweated
Failed many times in their task
But together they crawled toward their aim
One day they finally did it
They climbed aboard their creation
And started a new era in the modern world
Finally these brothers did the impossible
Their names were Wilbur and orville wright
Stubbornness is perhaps the greatest gift God has given man
Those who have it are mocked and berated by their clan
Undeterred they continue toward their mission
Never swayed by words blinded by their ambition
When the dust settles everyone sees
The answer to success is this disease
More things have been done
By unrelenting men seeking the long run
Stubbornness may in fact be wrong
Alas anyone can see this burden is carried only by the strong
Nov 16, 2010
Nov 16, 2010 at 11:20 AM UTC
Nightfall, through the door,
Bedsprawl, a ritualistic bore. Movements, they're oppressive. Actions, they're aggressive but his eyes, they're depressive.
Our synthetic connection and self-hatred is created with projection and misplaced indignation. There is no love in our heads, no lust in our beds. The fear of emasculation and eternal damnation hides all self-loathing with boasting and congruent clothing.
My Y was castrated. I'm a ****** from the womb. I'm Female, for unsated gloom my X is berated. I'm named a disgusting mutation as he projects his deveation onto the population.
When his shameful "pride" has diminished, I know our joyless formality has finished. He doesn't sit in the pew, yet he stands in the aisle, locked in a prison of denial. Tough and brisant, trying to be what he isn't. He walks out like a ragdoll, his steps aneurysmal with alcohol.
Beside myself, salty tears act as an anaesthetic, the antonym of emotion. An apathetic ocean.
I clutch my centre, the daunting tormentor. Impregnation is a STD, an infection, an infestation. Glue for our miseries to undo our joys. Merriment induced torment, fidelity induced gaiety
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 8:03 AM UTC
Nigeria 🇳🇬
A lot has happened to you since 62
You're a year older, and still most of your kin hates you
They forget how they may not exist without you
Yes! You are on the brink of hell,
To say your name has been marred with gutter
An act from most of your children
You have suffered the injustices of men
We hear cries of your children in the North
Thousands of hooligans in the South-West
There is so much bad blood in the East
The Middle Belt doesn't know her role or who to follow
Your name has been berated all over the world
Your currency, at the brink of death with the stock market
Stolen funds for those who can grasp it
Banditry for the suffering Masses
Illegal mining, yet no one is talking about it
You have suffered bickerings from people who want to _Japa_
A fluctuating forex makes it no easier
They blame you for their atrocious behaviour
They sometimes forget how fertile you are.
Nigeria!
From East-West and North-South, you have suffered injustices
For decades, you have been subject to malicious governance
Battling all levels of inflation, subjecting your people to abject poverty
Yet the rich get richer, and the poor? More Jejune if you ask.
At 63, I want to fight. For your children and kinship
Fight for your soil and regain your strength
Battle with these injustices and insecurity
Bring down inflation and take back your crown
Debunk all forms of evil committed with your name
And fight for a better 64.
Nigeria is great, Nigeria will be great
Nigeria is our father's land.
Happy Independence Day, Nigeria 🇳🇬
Bellah.
Oct 1, 2023
Oct 1, 2023 at 3:59 AM UTC
*We were both still quite sleepy.
She laid her head in my lap in
fetal position for most of the ride
and I nodded off as the thunder
rumbled, and rocked me to sleep,
my head lolling to one side.
It was miserable out.
The sky was a toxic, smoky gray,
swollen and bruised purple
like rotting flesh, and the rain,
so incessant, berated the windshield
of the cab the whole ride to the theater
and all the while after we had handed
a couple crumpled dollars to the driver
and gotten in the cue.
We had our backstage passes
tucked away into our coats,
we didn't want any of the
regulars to see. She huddled
closer to me to guard her
ashen lips from the needle ******
of the wind, that would bring a tear
to her eye when they scraped against
the tip of her nose. She was thinking,
as she fingered the strap of the shiny,
clean, new camera
she bought to photograph us doing
***** things, the lens
reflecting all of her good intentions,
warm feelings onto me.
As a vendor strode by I snagged
up two cups of coffee, and handed one to her
and then we sank back into the shivering,
shuddering mass. She took a few sips, as I drew
the flame to my cigarette, ducking behind her
and cupping the tip in order to get it lit,
I could see the steam dissipating into the cold,
wet air. She smiled with amusement and
after a few moments looked up and whispered to me
"I want him at his best. I hope he's super depressed."
I said
"Yeah",
as I exhaled the smoke and simultaneously, in one heave,
cleared my throat,
"I hope he ******* hates us."*
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 2:46 PM UTC
Cadaverous crotchety gouged out eyes.
Scalped trite and malnourished minds.
Where am I? What has this land become?
My vessel is gutted galled and splayed out upon the enflamed remains of our democracy.
I try to embody the equanimity peaceful qualities of the lulling Gandhi characters before me...
But **** I am angry, jolted and saturated in shock in fear.
Being an advocate for the people so dismissively marginalized, is what brings substance to my life.
I look into the eyes of my mirthful clients and future students, my heart winces.
How did I allow this to happen to you?
A man who so boastfully incinerates and debased the citizens of our land with his farcical vitriol, is no man at all but merely an unsightly shrew, cozily cosseted in his world of soot and pooh.
The bosky gorgeous land we inhabit sobs in noxious fright.
To be despoiled and berated as some "natural right" splintered and tainted to allow the green cash river flow into the dubious maw of the man with no dignity to show.
A man who preens such a degenerated mindset is only aptest to a society in shambles.
Our global haimish home yearns for the equilibrium from which it was born.
In such a seeded tumultuous time my heart is seeped in reverberating sorrow.
Let your love and purity coat your vessel, do not let this barbaric man permeate your soul.
Hold steadfast to the testament of our land
True revolution is budded from a web of genuine connection, not devise brandished weapons.
Don't shroud yourself in misery, break free and be prepared to encite love with your authenticity.
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 1:57 AM UTC
If every noble cause,
Is mocked by the commoners themselves;
If every good inference,
Is taunted and berated relentlessly;
If all one gets by trying,
Is being brought down using the name of almighty himself,
Then
I don't wanna be good in this world.
If every selfless devotion,
Is only to be taken granted;
If egoistic attention,
Is all that deserves love;
If love is no more,
Than a squabble and a source of hideous pleasures:
Then
I don't wanna be good in this world.
If procurement
Has become more important than the heart;
If anxiety,
Is something people use for diligence;
If sympathy and sorrow,
And not care
And ONLY care
Is what one uses for getting love;
Then
I DONT WANNA BE GOOD IN THIS WORLD.
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 12:39 PM UTC
Oh, how you ***** me!
How you betrayed me!
You took away our romance!
Berated me,
Degenerated me
At every turn of the dance!
Now, when you lied,
How I did cry.
How your mis-deeds turned me out.
I tried to forgive,
Tried to forget.
I tried to figure all this out.
Time and again
You hurt me so.
Everytime you strike with a low blow.
Shame comes to me
In memories.
I try my best to let you go.
You live to lie.
I wonder why
There is no truth inside your heart.
Your acridine,
Oscillate, shine.
You went right through me like a dart.
Where were you
When I needed someone?
You wrecked the soul of who I used to be.
You rocked the loom.
And weaved love's tomb.
You have been the death of me.
This is the time.
I know I'll find
The strength I need to tell you so.
By this night's end,
Freedom begins.
I know I've got to let you go.
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 3:00 PM UTC
They sent me to a place far away through time and space
Deep in the woods where there was nothing safe
They told me it would fix me, program me to behave
I'll never be able to hide the scars that place gave
Locked away, beaten, berated and abused
It wasn't until later that it came out on the news
Only then was it shown that the horrors were all true
It helps to explain why the survivors are so few
They set us up for failure; set us up to lose
For most of us death was not a hard option to choose
I remember when Karlye hanged herself inside
A bathroom all alone and the staff left her to die
The behavioral modification was nothing more than just a lie
In a land with no liberty anything would fly
They flashed horrifying images rapidly up on a screen
While we listened to audio of tortured souls that screamed
Nothing there was ever what it seemed
Stuck inside the hell of Spring Creek Lodge Academy
Solitary confinement for days on end
Watching in horror as they beat your best friend
Within an inch of his life, again and again
From that day on you didn't want another to begin
They broke my mind to pieces in that place
But not matter how they tried my soul they couldn't take
Others weren't so fortunate; I've been to so many wakes
So much pain came from that place it would be impossible to fake
I hope this is the result you were looking for
When you had two men come in the night and take me out the door
I didn't talk to you for months, I came back forever changed
Like an animal, self destructive, angry and deranged
It didn't program me into the robot you wanted me to be
There is a reason over half of my fellow prisoners won't be seen
A suicide rate like that is so high
I don't blame a single one of them
Though you tried to take away their rights, they had the right to die
The only question left to answer now is why?
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 4:50 PM UTC
I was ten years old when I had my first crush.
I didn't think much of it. I just sort of assumed
That you should care for your best friend enough
That they were the person you wanted to reach for
When no one else was there.
I assumed that love was the type of thing
That you give freely and kindly.
But when he was lost to me,
Due to moves and my own issues,
I held on tight to those feelings,
And attempted time and time again to let go.
But I never felt anything
Since then.
No spark of affection,
No desire to get to know another
In that sense
And I faked a lot of things I shouldn't have.
I faked affection and I faked caring.
I faked being a normal teenager,
Because normal teenagers have crushes and think people are cute,
And recognize attraction and flirtation and actually want to go to dances
And hope that the cute boy will kiss them.
I faked it all.
Because I never felt a "crush", nor did I find anyone cute,
I didn't recognize attraction or flirtation, and I would have rather died than go to a dance.
And kissing I found to be disgusting, I would have rather chewed on rocks.
I thought I was broken. That I wasn't quite normal.
That there was something wrong with me for being so utterly repulsed
By *** and the like.
And in a vulnerable, broken state,
I mistook a bravado of kindness that hid selfish intentions,
For a chance to normalize myself again.
And I broke further,
Through every time I was yelled at,
Berated,
Controlled.
Told not to feel,
Not to react
Not to respond.
For so long, I thought I was broken
Because I cannot look at someone and find them anything more than
Somewhat aesthetically pleasing (if even that).
I cannot look at someone and see any potential
Sexually.
And upon being with you,
And clicking with the conversation,
And that first hug,
I realized I was not broken.
Rather I was a lock,
That needed the correct key,
But the key had been there
All along.
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 11:58 AM UTC
I bore the bruises and screams
and shattered inside
believing that it was my fault
for being battered to resemble a bruised peach,
berated to resemble an infected wound.
I tried to shield my frightened heart
from his prey like stature
and sadistic mind;
but he was clever,
he didn't let his barbaric hatred get in the way
instead
he repeated the broken promise of love
and abused my battered body
until I could not take the pain
and crumbled into a small bird
with no wings.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC
I want to write a screen play
The story of a life
A journey to insanity
The weary inner strife
The endless days of torture
Night's of intense mental pain
The wishing you where dead
Yet clinging to life's vein
When sparks of love afforded
To be snatched away in game
Each tearing a little deeper
Your sanity deranged
Their victory proclaimed
Like chess played with neurons
On a a board that has no squares
A three dimensional prison
That exists inside your head
No solace reached in morning
Their tirade begins again
Retreating deeper inward
You worsen every day
Finally a knife edge
Stay or walk away
Berated for your failure
Each and every day
Survival is all that matters
Clinging to your life
Thoughts are so intransient
You smile as you cry
A hug could simply **** you
Your humanity's been lost
Others did not see it
Nor how you paid the cost
So if I wrote a screenplay
The story of a life
How would I begin or end
What words would I write
Would you see the meaning
And hold me close tonight?
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 12:35 PM UTC
You took away the things I love
My bookcase and record player
Are dusty but my bed is warm .
You blacken already genetically dark circles under my eyes
And made me too discouraged
To use concealer .
You lined things up nice and neat for me in a row to critically craniumly understand ,
Then berated me when I couldn't currently conduct myself in front of company .
But needed to cope .™
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
They badgered me, berated me.
They beat me and they hated me.
They seemed to want me to die
Too soon, then, so did I.
I was different, and that was the reason.
Too many saw that as a form of treason.
I had to adhere to the boundaries
That were set for us artificially
They had no reference to reality;
More to some kind of elite tyranny.
And, I still find it horribly strange
That very little has changed.
The rules are still very much
Incredibly socially out of touch.
Strive to be elite or be beaten
And ultimately, almost literally eaten
By the swarm of mindless fools
That go on defending the rules
That allow children to be thugs
And, come to school to sell drugs;
That let the criminals escape
And, turn a blind eye to ****
And abuse and battering
But keep the ******** clattering
At PTA, school board and council meetings
More concerned with politics
Than the real-time subjects
Such as kids afraid of attending
Because the battlefield is never ending.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 8:18 PM UTC