We parade through life, always d y i n g , always l i v i n g .
Our paradise is your scalp; your skin; the dark corners.
We are the thin line between a carcass and a corpse.
We sound malicious, don't we? Do we paralyse you with fear?
Grab your paraphernalia; whip out your combs, your dustpans.
Kill us quicker, stop the cycle, rid yourself of d i r t.
Yet we are The Parasite; we will never r e a l l y leave you.
- Viola ( -GangsterSangster- )
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THE POEM I KNOW YOU ALL CLICKED ON THIS BOOK TO READ. You know when you get head lice and you can't get rid of them so you're stuck with them until you die? Yeah, me too. I hope this poem didn't freak you out :D
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PoetryIf you're sick of depressing poems about lost love and self casualties, then step inside this wondrous collection of melodramatic poems that'll teach you it's totally normal to write intense poems about head lice. • Copyright © 2015 -GangsterSangst...
