emptymirror's blog: "poetry"

These bones, these bones, these bones I own,

so frail as they crumble, and yet so sturdy,

strong in our youth, weak when we become a crone,

people lie, words can hurt as much as a stick or a stone.

Why people hate and hurt each other, I don't know,

I guess it is human nature to pick on the weak and nerdy,

or maybe we try to fight ourselves, we have no real foe,

but it's too late for them to change, you must reap what you sow.

So I'll become a monster, fight hate with vengefull wrath,

Change my soul to end this charade of ignorant calm,

trade these bones you disregarded to show my rage,

I guess I'll need more then words to break you.

If only that goal were within possible reach,

I can no more lose my supposed humanity the fly,

the kindness a weakness with a barrier I can't breach,

to say I could stoop to their level would be a lie.

Destiny is the worlds bully, a picker and a chooser,

some are born winners, I was born a loser,

you can't negotiate or fight, only accept and succumb,

if you try otherwise, you'll be seen as dumb.

What is the point when you can't find your path?

I puzzle this as I hold the knife to my palm,

Why not cut the story short, rip out the last page?

But no, I'm too empathetic, I couldn't do that to you.

These bones, these bones, these bones I hate,

In the party that is life, never early, always late,

nothing to live for, forever in a depressive state,

I await, not knowing the future,for it is my fate.