You clench your hand around my throat
And SQUEEZE until my eyes roll.
R e l e a s i n g your grip before my last breath
Before my soul can rise above you.
Always pulling me down to your level.
And dragging me along your path towards
Paranoia Anxiety Revenge.
What will it take for you to set me free?
I know this question is rhetorical
Because like a HYENA,
You would rather E A T your young
Than go hungry.
You would rather destroy me to satisfy your own impulses.
Peace of mind, for whom? You,
While I am akin to Hamlet
Only, my madness is U N F E I G N E D.
For I have decided “’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,”
A conscience- coward,
With eyes averted to sky,
Full to the brim with HOPE and PRAYER,
For God’s d e c r e e on Judgment Day.
But that’s just who I am,
Unorthodox to you, orthodox to morality.
Be the first to comment this poem.
The War Between Procreator and Progeny