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This is what I call s**t

Death walked among us
in the deserted wasteland
that we further call our
unwanted, torn up home.
Our sisters, our brothers,
and parents all dead.
The knife is planted in
your hands, stained.
Tears of vengeance and hate
flow down your stone
cold face into the
hole that your heart
has left unwanted.
This isn't your life,
this is a life of
bitterness and broken
hearts controlled by
the one and only past.
Move on unloved child.
He is no longer bearing
a soul of life, but one
of black acid that slowly
kills his common sense.
Let go unnoticed heart,
love will leave bitter
stains that will never
leave your mind at ease.
Screaming when humanity
is at it's loss, seeping
out our pores into
a dark, unknown room.
Death paced that room,
gloating in our horror.
Laugh little angel why
time can still tick
and you can watch
all the world suffer.
In this realistic man
made world, optimism
can't shine the dimmest
light amongst all the
pessimism of the damned.
The depth of the
mind cannot catch it.
So we sit here
and think, and we drink,
we smoke, and we slice
out our scars and place
our pain within them.
Take your little razorblades,
and take out your lighter.
Burn your scars into an
unwanted past stupidity.
Cut open and cease the day.
Is this what you truelly
made the final decision on?
This is what you have made
life out to be for you and me.

Miss Blarglepoof
Community Member
Miss Blarglepoof
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