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Poem Details  

Title: no title
Author: Anonymous
Date Submitted: 4/22/2010

 
Poem: I''m sick to death
like a kid whose head''s conflicted with regrets. Tries whinging less, holds in the stress, but he''s hopeless at best, so slits both wrists instead, bringing death plus closure and rest. Fuck a life if the whole thing''s a mess.
My soul''s singed, infested with holes in its flesh, which open and let darkness enter my spirit. Tried hard to censor my feelings, no use even mentioning real things, too empty to feel things. No sense in me really, essentially nil and won''t ever be whole, never had goals, didn''t even wanna try, energy stole while believing all the lies. But why apologise for shit I''ll keep doing, it''ll just make it more painful in the long run. As for hope I''ve got none but each moment I spent ignorant to reality was fun. Faith in people may as well be the gate to evil, all they do is bring pain deceit and more despair than I thought to share. I should take my brain in for repair or pay a pagan for a prayer, either way I''d relish in the futility of it all. A hellish skinned devil kin could never win, but I stopped being malevelont a long time ago, I believe in benevolence, which I once tried to show, but it seems there''s no evidence, so what I believe is just some kind of joke. Fuck trying to cope or survive the flow when the tide''s been going for so long. We may be all in the same boat, I''d be the first to drown on purpose, or head on down the circus and join the proudest workers, wear novelty sized shoes on the tightrope and fall to the ground, that clown was worthless. Now I''ve worked this angle to it''s logical conclusion, my attitude''s not negative or ominous by choosing. That''s how life''s conditioned it to be, in this game there''s no victory, I''m positive I''m losing....