All the sheer sadness and the flaring bouts of anger
The distrust behind my back and the endless danger
Loathing burning, white clenched fists suppressing
But in the end it's always been me that was losing
.
They keep looking at me with pitied glossed-over eyes
Like I'm just another idiot who can't handle their lies
They stare at me like I'm just another broken monster
Whose own raging emotions I can't manage to conquer
.
I know I ain't perfection, I have been badly damaged within
And I sure as hell need some penitence for my countless sins
But what hurts the most is not their hatred and their loathe
But simply because to my faith and humanity, they've lost all hope.
YOU ARE READING
To My Wayward Sons (Supernatural Poetry)
PoetrySupernatural poems that I write when all the: -massive emotional damage -overwhelming crack -severe obsession -rare inspiration -demon possessing me is too much to handle. 50% feels, 50% crack, 100% trash. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here! ××× ...
