Purple Fate

I am a screwed-up mess. I am hated by all and wished to be thrown in a compressor. Because that's my real home, a compressor. I will rather be turned into something new and be tortured into countless pieces.

Everyone stares, and everyone talks. It's nothing to be proud of, but only scared about. They're never nice. I'm either yelled at or made fun of. I could be scolded or threatened, but as if security shows up in time. They take every shot at me and show no mercy.

I am nothing but a magnet for disaster. The clock is ticking, the sun is rising, and the feet are stomping. I am ready to get scorched by the whole world population. Never do they smile, and never do they negotiate peace. It is my body they want into the flames, what better resources to use to warm the youth.

The world is bright, and the world is glamorous. But until I walk on the steps of society is when hell breaks loose. I can see the rage, it's rather apparent and intense. Why am I here I questioned myself as I stand in front of what would be equivalent to the Soviet Army. From there my legs wobble my heart decays and shrinks. The idea of turning back is wildly inaccurate.

They will take me alive and put me in some chair inject poison j into my veins, and play the waiting games as I struggle to untangle myself. I could already feel the toxic traveling into my brain as the blood circulation decreases. As my eyes roll behind my head, I dangle like a doll and start regurgitating fluids.

They don't bother buying a tomb for me,  my only coffin is the gruesome poisonous water in Michigan. Once more, they begin to celebrate and have some cake and ice cream party and kick out the jams.

It is worth the trouble to go and suffer and have me in episodes that result in fury and hell. I tremble and wobble and decay for all. I torment my adversaries with one inhale of air, and an exhale upon the tears of agony deriving from my enemies. I still to this day cannot fathom why they abhor me, and dream of killing me.