I wish you'd stop.
Think for a minute.
Who do you think you are?
Sitting perplexed.
Laughing at you, while you point the finger at me.
Placing the blame without knowing the truth.
I didn't expect it.
You didn't care to understand.
I sit and take it.
Well that it no more of this shit.
In the moment of your ignorance I grew up.
The game is over from here on.
This day I reign.
Like a living nightmare.
I stand true.
My ground will swallow you up.
Watch me enrage.
Swallow your pride.
I'm outstanding standing out.
Masterminding your gutless doubt.
Your tears flowing.
Mind blown.
Better knowing.
Take your shit and run.
Cause today is the day I fucking come.
YOU ARE READING
Salad Days
PoetrySad poems from sad and angry times. Written from a juvenile time (14 years old) to older. That's what you get when you leave a teen to ponder reality. A pen hits reality harder than high school survival. Original Art from Vivianne Rheaume
