Suffering til your sick
Sick of it all
Because
Everywhere you look
Someones waiting to fuck you
And your not alone
Daily
Millions die
And there are those
With pie in the sky dreams
‘Life is what you make it’
‘Just believe it and it’s true’
The positive preacher
That just doesn’t have a clue
Cos
Maybe if they’d been raped
And their lovers died
Their kids taken away
Left with no hope,
No faith or pride
What would they have to say
Would they still sing the same song
Or maybe would it change
Now
A victim of their pain
But what of those few
That step beyond
The filth, the heavy pits
Of bitter, hate
Self loathing
The stench of all the shit
And rise up
And smell the brillo pad
They used to scrap it off
Shining gleaming blossoming
The pain almost , forgot
Sometimes though people ask them
How did they survive it
How could life treat one so bad
And yet you don’t despise it
And then maybe
They’ll recognise
One truly has a choice
To be a silent victim
Or a leader with a voice
I really likes this one, Really. This was a good poem, if its a poem? I guess so. And thank’s for you’re comment, I really appreciate that, that you got some of the inspiration by me. That’s was nice.
And I think you are a good writter, so now you know that to.. : )
beautiful.