They always pester me,
Trying to get us to see,
What the world was meant to be,
Even across the great blue sea.
Everything we try to say,
They put it on a silver tray,
Throwing it away,
Never looking our way.
Naturally we were supposed to protest,
Trying to get rid of the pest,
That put us up to the test,
Not wanting us to rest.
Not wanting to upset our elders,
We, children, ditch the matters,
That hurts us like pickers,
Even more than sounded snickers.
Eventually we want to reign,
Be freed from what caused us pain,
Be freed from what caused the rain,
To have what we must obtain.
Technically, we do not want to terminate,
But to dominate,
To just recreate,
So we can have a better date.
Social Standards would be obliterated,
Since it would not be needed,
Because, once we have started,
We would not need what was once created.
When the world start to shine,
There would be no 'mine',
But our and thine,
And the six that turned to nine.
At the end of our journey,
We can destroy the key,
To what the world used to be,
So the new world could embrace you and me.
YOU ARE READING
Why Me?
PoetryThis story is about why I don't want to live. In the form of peoms I write my tale. To me life is a pain and no one understands what is going through my every thought.
