"percentage" poems
Chest swelling,
mind blown
as two eyes stare at the percentage.
Jump up and down,
like a frog.
Squeal if you want,
enjoy the moment.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 7:03 PM UTC
It's all just numbers, isn't it?
Day by day,
Year by year,
Always counting.
Day by day look at the number on the scales.
Let the caloric calculator count until your head is filled with numbers.
Minute by minute count the seconds it takes for him to text you back.
Let the doubt and fear multiply until your head is full of him.
Term by term let a percentage on a piece of paper define your worth.
Don't we have better things to do than count?
Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 11:07 AM UTC
Ashen doves float within the waves,
slinking like silent demons in the night.
They curl around my body,
jaws operating like steel machines,
gnashing at my limbs.
I begin to scream for help,
but they ****** my breath,
they drag me under their tides of black,
unleashing my unremitting fear of water predators.
their teeth, sunken into my flesh,
gnawing at my mind,
painting me my new mortality.
These are my demons,
the sharks in the bath when it comes to hygiene.
the fear of the below and the depths of human mentality,
the untraceable percentage of human worthlessness,
the detestable attraction to the demise of our minds,
I float lower into the aqua,
pressure building,
unforgiving and foreboding
I close my lids, and dream of the sand,
praying it to be underfoot when I open my eyes,
but when my lids open, the doves loom closer.
The irony of a hydrophobe,
dying at the hands of the sharks.
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 8:20 PM UTC
Probability.
I sit here in class,
Seeing my teacher talk;
It's probably something useful
On probability.
How about the probability of my life?
Probability to do my homework;
Non because I've been called a ******** so many times, I've given up.
Probability of me getting the perfectly imperfect version of a boyfriend;
Zilch because no one appreciates a young healthy, very curvy sophomore with a DD,
Yet people who make fun of me will WISH and HOPE for my ******* in their future years
They will even get surgery just to make themselves like me,
So what is the practical probability they stop making fun of me;
Zilch!
Probability that I will be seen as more than an object to others;
******** to none because I don't make an effort anymore, not after sixth grade.
Probability I will ever feel completely good about myself as a whole;
Maybe because I have six awesome friends who don't put me down.
Probability my life will get better;
Someday but not today
My past made an irreplaceable mark on me
And my probability.
Will the percentage grow,
Along with my hopes?
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 11:40 PM UTC
The beloved country Africana can boast of is Ghana. The manana of Africana black star is Ghana A nation rich in culture and natural pasture.
Its nature reflects the creatures’ caricature
We are black reflecting our true beauty.
And we are packed with captivating ability. The typicality of our nationality brings unity. Who knows whether our safety lies in our variety?
This unity amidst our diversity is our reportage. About twenty-four million are surviving in our age. Over sixty ethnic groups and fifty-two major languages. There are hundreds of dialects which are to our advantages.
In W/A, Ghana records the highest percentage of Christianity… Yet the modernity of our sanity portrays minds of malignity. But the fraternity of our humanity builds our community. The variety of our morality and privity builds our society
Who said Ghana cannot be capaciously superfluous? We have the very illustrious and exuberant resources. The elites and the voracity are harnessing the recourses. The destitute remains poor and the gentry linger the forces
Our democratic government is an African paradigm. Our peaceful political regime is of no pantomime. Who of course would help us measure corruption? The whole nation would have tensed up to eruption.
If not the gargantuan wayomelogy of the wayometer. Who knows whether the next tool would be attameter? Who wouldn’t love to be a proud Ghanaian to enjoy our hilarious fila and jargons tongue can employ
Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 7:52 PM UTC
We hear so often about our rights.
But what rights we have is a priviledge, governed by laws.
We the people makes the rules.
We the people controls the rules.
And sometimes goes to the extreme to keep them too.
What's right for one?
Isn't totally right for society.
Those that feels brave with a gun.
Sprout about constitutional rights.
And intimidate others by fear.
A sign of times, we will never learn.
For, as guns can protect you.
We aware constantly, they can **** you.
And your constitutional rights share the blame.
When guidance of common sense isn't used.
We let fee based groups dictate the rules.
And, they share a percentage of the blame.
We hear guns don't ****
That people do.
Which is complete true.
When they use their consitutional rights to do it.
All because, we live by the rights to bare arms.
Which is a priviledge.
Many people fails to see.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 8:12 AM UTC
Yeah, we have a great relationship. But imagine how much better this would be if I actually loved you back?
But oops, that's right. I forgot to tell you that I'm kind of incapable of loving another human being.
But it's okay, it's not like love is real anyways.
And even though a good percentage of the general population have the same opinion as me, I'm labeled by those around me as a cynical, lonely, pessimistic girl, simply because others can't seem to comprehend that everything I say is derived from my own personal perspective and observations that I've made.
What was it that the naively optimistic, overly positive young man from the book store called me?
Oh yes, an "unjustifiably, unnecessarily negative teen who is disappointed with her life because she has yet to 'experience love.'"
Despite his ignorance and obscenely immature mindset, which evidently accounted for his matching personality, I don't think he realized that my lack of belief in the existence of "true love" was the exactly the reason that I was in the book store.
Because, as I came to realize, it appears that the only form of "love" that I seem to recognize as being adequate enough to somewhat believe in are those spoken of and created in novels.
It's formulated by the birth of a ridiculously intense, love fueled storyline, supported by a mindful choice of cohesive, dramatic, and emotional words.
Hence, fictional love is born, except to most it doesn't seem fictional because it's so breathtaking to read about.
They believe in it, they worship it.
As if it actually exists in an alternate universe.
The unrealistic perfection of it gives them a disgusting, false hope which just drives them to cling to it more.
It's a drug to them, they can't live without the hope that such a "love" exists somewhere in the world; they need it.
And the sad part is, they're completely oblivious to the fact that they have just become addicts, that they just sold their soul and relinquished part of their freedom to a fictitious concept.
It's so fake, it's almost real.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 4:10 AM UTC
Dusk!
With a creepy, tingling sensation you hear the fluttering of leathery wings!
Bats!
Glowing red eyes and glistening fangs,
These unspeakable giant bugs drop into view.*
Fibrous wings furred like a moth,
Big ears are just a membranous extension of antennae.
Flying in search of a flower’s pollen laden froth,
Silent except for the hum and squeak of echolocation.
Trap bats in attics, butterflies in nets.
No rabies feared, no bedbug bites to itch.
Clawed feet ****** and grab like praying mantis pincers;
Bloated stomach slopes like a pudgy beetle.
Jaws manipulate like an ant, excise like scissors;
Soft hair rustles like a wooly caterpillar.
They live in darkness, centipedes do too,
Come out at night like cockroaches tend to.
Skittering through the night like daddy long-legs,
Noses snubbed like bumble bee faces.
Wind turbines endanger bats,
Like fans endanger lightning bugs.
Only one percent of bats are vampiric,
Like only a small percentage of spiders are poisonous.
Dawn!
With a creepy, tingling sensation you hear the fluttering of leathery wings!
Bats!
Bats are bugs, aren’t they?
May 4, 2010
May 4, 2010 at 5:04 PM UTC
Not all men insecure because their spouse makes more money.
The man just happy to have a loving partner.
It's those males with sensitive egos.
Who complains about his lady bringing home more bread?
Who let the old role of a man dictates to them?
While many males isn't lumped together with them.
Take those ladies at the top.
They don't brag about it.
Because they earned the position to be there.
And don't need anything or anyone to uplift them.
They solely believes action speaks louder than words.
Yes, many males comfortable with a working spouse.
That's just more percentage of money to assist in helping the finances of the house.
You might read an article of two.
Boasting of a woman in a man's field.
Or, what it use to be?
And look closely at the writer.
It's mostly written probably by a woman.
Who first brought up the subject of making more than most men.
Except , many aren't upset.
If they know she has the experience.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 9:00 AM UTC
EAST BOSTON, 1996
ON THE BUS
Franz Wright
It's one thing when you're twenty-one,
and I was way past twenty-one.
With unshaven face half concealed in the collar
of some deceased porcine philanthropist's
black cashmere rag of a coat,
I knew that I looked like a suicide
returning an overdue book to the library.
Almost everyone else did as well,
but I found no particular solace in this;
at best, the fact awakened some diverting speculations
on the comparative benefits
of waiting in front of a ditch to be shot
alone or in company
of others, and then whether one would prefer
these last hypothetical others
to be friends, family, enemies, total
or relative strangers. Would you hold hands?
Or would you rather like a good **** sapiens
monster employ them
to cover your genitals?
What percentage would lose bowel control?
And given time restrictions -
and assuming some still had the ability to move -
would ostracism result? Anyway,
I knew the rules on this bus.
No eye contact: the eyes of the terrified
terrify. Look
like you know where you're going,
possess ample change to get there,
and don't move your lips when you talk
to yourself: the destroyed
and sick, the poor, the hungry
and the disturbed estrange.
The badly dressed estrange, even,
and that is uncalled for. The degree
of one's power to estrange will increase
in direct proportion to the depth
of need for others. Do not cry.
This can only bring about, on the one hand,
an instant condition of banishment
from the sole available companionship, or
on the other, a near
fatal beating (one more disappointment).
Just follow the simple instruction
if you ever come here.
It's easy to remember - any idiot can do it.
Don't cry,
the world has abandoned us.
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 7:59 AM UTC
I have fears – they are very real to me. But contrary to what the some may think, my greatest fears are not rejection and abandonment.
My greatest fear is that everyone will continue to turn their heads while victims are screaming.
My greatest fear is that survivors will express exactly how they feel, whether verbally, or acting out, and they will continue to be invalidated by being told they need medication and therapy in order to control their behavior, thereby reinforcing what they learned as children.
My greatest fear is that victims will continue to be silenced by therapy, or numbed from medication, and the clinicians, the researchers, will continue to ‘theorize’ and develop treatment that, in the long-run, is not helpful because they, themselves were NOT abused and have no idea what really should be done.
My greatest fear is that survivors will continue to be lab rats in the development of treatment that is not helpful, they will continue to drop out, time after time, and they will continue to self-harm, ‘repeat the trauma’, and possibly commit suicide because they believe no one cares.
My greatest fear is that the statistics will grow and no one will do anything about it because they do not know what to do. These are the facts:
**A report of child abuse is made every ten seconds
More than five children die every day as a result of child abuse.
Approximately 80% of children that die from abuse are under the age of 4.
It is estimated that between 50-60% of child fatalities due to maltreatment are not recorded as
such on death certificates.
More than 90% of juvenile ****** abuse victims know their perpetrator in some way.
Child abuse occurs at every socioeconomic level, across ethnic and cultural lines, within all
religions and at all levels of education.
About 30% of abused and neglected children will later abuse their own children, continuing
the horrible cycle of abuse.
About 80% of 21 year olds that were abused as children met criteria for at least one
psychological disorder.**
And this reflects only what is reported. Imagine what that percentage would be if all of the unreported cases were included.
And of the millions of children that survive the abuse, many grow up to be adults who are able to put it behind them, succeed and present themselves as an acceptable member of society, and many of them do not. But what are we DOING about it? When will people stop turning their heads? When will we finally stop, look and listen to these children being abused and to the adults who were abused as children?
When will we, society, decide that child abuse, and **** and ****** assault are important, and affect millions of lives every year, and that it can be just as deadly as cancer. When will we finally stop whispering and turning our heads and actually face it and do something to stop it, and effectively treat those who ‘survived’?
I hope it happens in my lifetime, and I hope I can make a difference!
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 8:36 PM UTC
A large percentage of my favorite dreams end too soon.
My eyes open and I regret the moment I open them.
A large percentage of my favorite dreams ending too soon.
While I lay there unable to find my way back.
A large portion of my life spent unaware of my surrounding
until I wake up.
The reality that I'll never find my way back.
Some of my best smiles, favorite memories of what could have been.
Discovered while I leave everything behind
And close my eyes for seconds longer
This unexpected moment I close my eyes & begin to dream.
My eyes skipping through every smile.
To see where I end up, the faces I haven't seen in a long time
Re-Living a moment of peace.
When my eyes open
It's not completely the dream I resent why I open my eyes.
It's the complete and utter feeling of not knowing what could have been.
Known that you were the sweetest dream I could have fallen into
Stumbling in and out of every laugh.
Known the sweetest kiss I could have ever dreamed
Came from you
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 10:41 AM UTC
she sat, back to passers by,
just out of the pouring rain,
wet hair, feet too, both socks soaked,
through and through.
Her short blonde-dyed locks were more like a pointy sponge drying in the wind.
rearranging to find dry things to wear,
blue gauze dress dripping water too,
naked to her underwear, without a care,
she put on her polka dot pajamas,
that were meant for nights you played twister, with her.
But she was so alone. On concrete steel stairs at a mall
central to the city where being a street person is a
measured percentage of the population,
what frustration,
and with distrust she stared anyone down,
talked in an angry voice, to everybody around. But there was no one,
who would stop, three over stuffed bags of belongings
while swearing and tossing her
head, longing to be someplace warm,
away from harm. That got her to this point in time.
Her feet were covered, and maybe warmer,
she packed and repacked all that she had,
and she was mad, like angry,
and on concrete stairs, and on user beware, and on the bottom of the arc
of her life so far,
so far away from the dreams she had as a little girl,
so far away from the hopes that she now only copes,
from one breath to the next breath and smokes a cigarette in between.
Alone, she knows better not to despair, no one would care if she did.
©DWE012014
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 1:09 AM UTC
The world of the rich makes you wonder.
When you spend money like they do.
It's the sign of luxury.
Or signs of a fool.
Sneakers and clothes that the child can't comprehend.
With prices that amount to careless spending.
Just to keep up with the Jones.
While giving a percentage of smallness to help the homeless.
Like Disney building of Disneyland.
It's just a world of make believe.
Except, this the world of our celebrities and the wealthy.
To have and have not.
Spotlight us differences in our personality.
Those that places emphasis upon image.
Get upset when they are no longer mention.
Except in past tense.
Those that have never been into name brand things.
Will not be offended in anyway.
Especially, the world of the make believe.
Let not money define the person you are.
Cause once you lose it.
Then your importance is gone.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 9:13 AM UTC
Yes, ear hustlers exist.
They at home, at work, and even at church.
Instead of concentrating on themselves.
They seem to be concentrating on your conversation.
What little bit they hear?
Has now became a blown up story.
With more added details than they ever know.
That's how the ear hustling stories goes.
One small detail that they came in the middle of has destroyed many relationships.
What makes us get involved in things not related to them?
Is the oldest question to ever be asked.
Ear hustling in school.
Ear hustling in the homeroom.
Makes you know that many are concern with you.
What rumor that is spread?
Never has that much truth within it.
Maybe a half percentage if at all.
Oh, the rumor mill won't ever fade.
Some people lives to talk about people they do and don't know.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 8:21 AM UTC
Not even sickness could keep you down
You took the pain without a sound
You have strength beyond compare
And this with others you do share.
No one can know your pain
Except the ones who are going thru the same.
Breast cancer is not only restricted to women
Men get it too.
But they are not as strong as you
They have more of a macho block
This stays on their minds and just can’t stop.
The percentage may be mighty small
But it affects us one and all.
With a lot of inspiration
Someday we’ll find the vaccination.
It will stop those cells dead in its tracks
And there’ll be no coming back.
But until then – don’t give up the fight
We see your struggles, they’re in our sight.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 7:56 PM UTC
it’s just a word
that’s what i tell myself
so the breath doesn’t leave my body when i see it
or hear it
but for some reason
those 8 letters shake me to my core
they make me lose all thought
all reason
all sense of normal
and i don’t know why
because it’s me
i don’t know why those eight letters
have that much power over me
maybe it’s because i’ve read it a million times in my textbooks
seeing the stats
and pictures with the stick thin girls
looking in the mirror
maybe it’s because i can’t admit to myself
i actually am those statistics
i cant process that i’m the word
because it’s only in textbooks
it’s only in the movies
that’s not who i am
that will never be me
maybe it’s because i don’t see myself as it
i don’t see myself as the girl in the textbook
or as a percentage in a chart
i don’t see myself as a definition
or something people study
something that people can’t understand
or maybe it’s because i hate the word
because it only reminds me of complete and utter pain that used to be my life
maybe it remind me of everything i lost
or that were robbed from me i should say
my happiness, my passion, my life
my entire life was taken by those eight letters
so maybe that’s why i cant bear to even look at them
maybe it’s because that means i am it
maybe if i see the word too many times
or say it enough
it will become me
it will be who i am now
and what am i then
i’m not alive that’s for sure
what am i if that’s all i am
if that’s who i’ve become now
what do i have
if my whole existence is based upon those 8 letters
i wish i could tell you
i really do
because i want to to know too
i want to know why i flinch at the sight of the word
why i cant stand to hear it
let alone have it leave my mouth
i want to sit here and tell you
that i’m better
and those 8 letters are behind me
but to be honest i don’t think they ever will be
maybe that’s it
maybe that’s what i’m afraid of
never being able to forget it
or past it
just stuck with it
being haunted by it every second
because i see it everywhere
it follows me and teases me
everywhere i go
so maybe if i don’t say it
it will leave me alone forever
or maybe just maybe
the word makes it all a little too real
maybe when i say it
i feel the pain
and hurt
that i used to
i see the joy i was robbed of
for so long
i see who i was before
i see it all so clearly when i see that word
and maybe that
is just too real to handle
Dec 25, 2020
Dec 25, 2020 at 6:05 PM UTC
To be blessed ,
favored and protected by the environment,
selected and isolated from your social groupings,
To be blessed is to synthesize what truly has meaning in life and self-meditate with the sake of life’s pace.
Before falling asleep, resting, force the mental to remain awake,
processing and breaking apart the information given today,
despite the fact that time wasn’t kind, brief or even prolonged; make it the moral commitment to self-reflect.
Make a correction if your answer is wrong; the fabrication of a scripture,
Make sure, for certain, that all the totaled scores calculate to a certain percentage,
Affirmed, scolded or ruled by another to convey your defined truth as inaccurate, almost there or rarely ample.
Time is allotted, effortless and to be taught a lesson is a blessing,
Space is limited, given and to be bestowed the gift of building is the set up version of a lesson, a shell of a blessing.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 1:39 AM UTC
you can wear your cap twisted sideways
sag your pants down to your knees
ride a pachyderm or a mule that brays
be whatever kind of fool you please
sing love songs in the rose garden
or complain how the dollar done fell
knowing qadafi, hussein, and bin laden
have all been dispatched to hell
you can rant and rave about raw deals
you can raise your snout and sashay about
or he-haw and buck, kick up your heels
or vote for more hope or to kick da *** out
you can lean to the left or to the right
weighing the pros and cons and hype
but you can't stay out of this fight
and claim you're just not the type
to freely elect their governments and laws
evers, walesa, mandela, and susan b
lived and died for just such a cause
to see the people's voices set free
but if you just call it mumbo jumbo
and aloofly let this moment pass
we all may be led by Dumbo
or maybe that other *******
what percentage do you claim?
forty-seven, one, or ninety-nine?
tea party? occupier? some other name?
are you just spouting a party line?
all our blood runs red
'bove us all the sky is blue
and no matter what is said
there's one thing we all should do
hadn't you better cast a vote?
against the ones who vote aginst you?
i think you'd really better vote ...
it's the least but the best thing you can do.
doug curry
10/24/2012
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 12:43 PM UTC
My configuration is accelerating
Off balance with the earth's core
Dissatisfied, I try to be still
My form is hyper and energetic
Loud and obnoxious
Mistaken and exaggerated for being cruel
I only seek to harness similarities
To stand grandly, instead I appear egotistical with low self-esteem
Contradicting, no way to make sense
This is a normal place
Disconnected, I try to behave
Social skill are at low percentage
Sitting, I embrace the heckling
one hand on heart and the other on mind,
In hopes to intertwine
Take control, define the soul
Combine me into a whole
Let standards go
Carrying a presence of a mild wind breeze
Never nearing nor ending
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 6:21 PM UTC
Family.What is Family? For some it is the dark shadows of one's past. Its the beatings one receives because of a drunken life. Something many don't really have or have ever really known. But for the fortunate its the ever comforting arms that cherish, protect, and encourage.
Friends. What are friends? For some they're the people who are there when you have money and/or popularity, but aren't when you don't. And nowadays to find the genuine article is practically impossible. But for the fortunate they're the ones who you can call up at three in the morning.
Teachers. What are teachers? For some they're the one's who only see what you can't do, and judge you because of a letter or percentage. But for the fortunate they're the one who help you reach your goals, and leave wonderful life long impressions.
But in this twisted world, we supposedly call "home", there aren't many fortunate enough to have all of the above. So when you get home tonight, no, right now I want you to really think. Are you going to be a person who makes another's life unfortunate? Or are you going to be a blessing to someone in need. Because even to a complete stranger you can be a friend for a day, an hour, or even 5 minutes. And a teacher or friend can take the place of a crooked family, and heal a broken life. I don't know about you guys, but I'm going to try my hardest to make the people around me one of those fortunate ones. And for all those unfortunate ones out there who don't want to speak up or have been told they can't, know that I can hear you and I'm speaking out for you.
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 5:50 PM UTC
This is not a poem, a poet wrote some white lies about Israel and I want to share the truth that we’re not told by our media’s.
Remember, we can disagree about things and still agree about a lot of other things.
If you search, you can easily find this information.
Most of it comes from Israel media.
Israel already had over 10,000
Palestinian prisoners locked up long before the Oct 7 when the genocide begin.
Men, women and children in their prisons with no path to freedom.
Not to mention the open air prison that the Israeli’s kept the Palestine society trapped in for the past 50 years called Gaza. Committing human rights violation against the indigenous people of the land.
The biggest percentage of all the people that were **** on Oct 7th, were killed by Israeli’s killing their own people because they were ordered to follow the Hannibal directive.
I suppose you’ve never heard of that, no? Then your news source is limited.
Last year in Israel, their high court decided that **** and torture in their prisons, being committed by the Israel army was no longer illegal. Most of their society did not want these prison guards to get in trouble for torturing and ****** the Palestinian prisoners.
All those things you claim some unnamed source told you, have already been debunk by many credible sources.
Hamas did not do it, Israel rapes, cheats, lies and kills indiscriminately. They own our leaders using AIPAC lobbist who have Trump by the *** (They own Epstein’s library)
AIPAC is the reason you believe lies. They own media and congress.
Their propaganda rules the networks.
And just in the last two years, Israel has started war with Iran, Lebanon and Syria.
And of course their genocide happening now to the people of Palestine. I don’t understand how anybody support them. But I’m not a superstitiously impaired Zionist either.
Jun 27, 2025
Jun 27, 2025 at 12:29 PM UTC
**** that little willy'd ****** *** lick'n; Skid mark sitt'n
Horror written; Square to circle fitt'n
Kid in frame lifted; Menapose acting
Habit of rabidly crashing into walls of madness;
Precision in his crack-head tactics;
Sky's backdrop to average;
Newspaper wrapped is this devil's package;
He's a mask filled with gas from a bean eating flaccid fascist;
Disrespectful **** sack;
A testament to where God's blessing had left his breath;
And bitten lip was given; Heaven's sin times seven;
Building this living devil hell hole;
Logic of Kelso; Autistic clap of the elbows;
Destined for death row;
Festering hatred, New York to Sacramento;
Hitler's stencil by broke'n pencil;
Bigger ***** then Elmo;
Range of insanity; With driver in hand, You tee up family;
Frantically filling fantasy of being calamity personified as Anthony
Majority holder in depressions percentage;
Son of a Prada wearing father; Regarded by all as Caustic;
Temper Atomic; Reasoning Neurotic
Monotonic **** You
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 4:53 PM UTC
I think we're going extinct
I hate to even blink
...
I remember when we were in sync
But things changed
We will act strange over change
Being caged and attached by chains is voguish
Are we hopeless?
Why can we polish our pinky rings
But leave rust on our linkage chains?
Our words don't bond anymore
Our words are shackles
Our words are like crooked spurs
And unbalanced saddles
Yeah It travels
But lies are to be told
Only to smear what we really withhold
I think that we're going extinct
I hate to blink
As my eye lids flicker
More and more existence spills from our mankind
Man-kind
We're turning into the kind of men
Who emotionally melts when we see celebrities
Where's our rectitude?
I think we're going extinct
I hate to blink
Where's my natural woman?
Every time I twitch
More and more she accepts the word *****
And in no time a guy can become exposed to her hips
Where's our morality?
Are we going to expire
All because we create our entire empire with desires?
Desires and thirst that require us to hurt
We smile and we smirk
We loath from good work
We poke at nerves
We drown our minds to swerve
We absorb potion
Only to tranquil our motion
We indulge in copulation
With a stranger
But somehow for consolation
...
We are endangered
We are a few more trends away from complete annihilation
Eradication
Liquidation
Obliteration
Cancellation
Our tendencies are cancerous and if we keep being patient
We will need medication
I don't feel any radiation
To not become subject to our decimation
I think we're going extinct
My instincts tell me that
Though we're a percentage and a contributor to this nation
We are approaching ruination
My instinct senses that I am one of the few who mentions devastation
And if I blink one more time
And if we keep wasting time
We'll be wastage
We
You and I
We'll be ejected from the race
And they'll use a prosthetic ethnic affiliation for our replacement
Can we come together with cooperation
Resisting this operation
May we all stand up
Before they go through with this amputation !
Blink
Lets see
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 5:55 AM UTC