i shall sever the veins and drain the life blood of these shallow hallucinations of grandeur.
i loathe these feelings and how quickly the ones of happiness and hope leave me drowning in my sorrow and self-centered despair
if you truly find it worrying that i take out my anger that is held towards others on myself, then i suggest you sedate me or at least help me cauterize the gaping wounds of my heart first.
this body is a fucking prison
the adults hold the key that will liberate me, yet they hold it above my head tauntingly.
hold it over a drop off leading to hell, and i will leap for it; be it death or victory that catch me, i do not care.
both of their arms will caress me the same
though this forsaken life has no true purpose, it is so tempting to continue to breathe
we give it purpose through our own materialistic hopes and dreams
only few deviate from these selfish thoughts
am i one of those deviants?
one of the few things that keep me sane is smoking enough to get so high i can't think right
it feels good
so no, i am not one of those deviants
seeking purpose through weed and my cat
the only friends who will never hurt me
YOU ARE READING
Poetry?
Poetryuh just feelings vomited onto a page, some dredged up from my school docs accnt. maybe it's semi-good. just basic teenage boy angst. enjoy if you want. heads up, some // n o t f u n v i b e s// ahead
