When you think you've none,
but then some always crop up
or should I rather say, develop;
that's when you know dear,
you're on your way there,
to doom, that is,
utter despair,
because you've a lot of them,
a lot and all of them really dark,
dark little ones,
hidden away inconspicuously from your best ones;
oh, those innocent ignorant leidig leod,
go away, please, turn away, please,
don't want to talk back,
very exhausting it is;
best peeps- they say,
my insides laugh away,
cause they know not, neither do you,
an account of my crippling soul
and murky abode;
disgusts me how they act so mighty
like they know,
but they not,
not half of half of half of half of
what I am;
want to tear my hair from the roots
and wail and throw my legs to a fitting rage, at how they all are so blissfully unaware ignorant stuck ups;
hate everything,
hate thyself cause I might hate them all too,
hate myself because I might hate them all too.
Oh, my skin and blood and bones imbued with such bitterness and displeasure and
lack of thole,
why, might I ask,
who shall I ask,
none;
so I must,
refrain from question marks.
One of the bests had said,
“little girl,
beware,
don't you bound yourself with just
a few specials;
for as history says,
and your dark innards reference,
it is in your nature to one day
get fatigued by them;
looking at them, feeling them as-
nothing, but- perhaps, just a little toxic. Go, see the world girl,
meet countless souls girl”.
But it is very soul exhausting you see,
darling, don't you see?
I'm the outcast, the oddity,
the wretched condemned,
none gets it,
none out there,
none sees,
none harkens,
none feels,
that's why I have them, from them;
dern.
Dark little ones.
