deepundergroundpoetry.com
Society
Everybody
look and see
what society has
done to me.
My wrists are slit
my blood runs blue
soon society will
get you too.
My hair turned black
Skin as pale as can be
I hate what society
has done to me.
They'll get you
and take you down
be done with you
before you can make a sound.
Nowhere to run
no place to hide.
I am sure of it.
Just ask those that have died.
look and see
what society has
done to me.
My wrists are slit
my blood runs blue
soon society will
get you too.
My hair turned black
Skin as pale as can be
I hate what society
has done to me.
They'll get you
and take you down
be done with you
before you can make a sound.
Nowhere to run
no place to hide.
I am sure of it.
Just ask those that have died.
Published 11th Mar 2012
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likes 6
reading list entries 2
comments 7
reads 339
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
12th Mar 2012 8:51am
12th Mar 2012 8:21pm
18th Mar 2012 00:17am
18th Mar 2012 2:34pm
thanks, you really did read more of my stuff! lol, thanks for the comment
7th Apr 2012 00:51am
25th Jun 2012 9:33pm
25th Dec 2012 3:47am
5 point punch. It works as each burst is independent. Alot of rage can come out when released in increments. Each verse is full of its own intention. What makes a fireburst work is intense development.
This solves the bridge project by getting the reader involved, which is the object. They can't be rid of the warming bits, the warning bliss, the scorning fits...
Juuust in the background. There's a certain black sound I've fast found that comes around and to waaaaait until the veeeeery last word to scrounge...
the evidence behind the intense sentiment? Just ask the dead of this? This keeps the heads adjusted of the living to trust this collection would be the kind towards which they should find a giving of attention.
So, agreed, a first place for a book, to set the pace for all those who just pause for a look. This would hook!
This solves the bridge project by getting the reader involved, which is the object. They can't be rid of the warming bits, the warning bliss, the scorning fits...
Juuust in the background. There's a certain black sound I've fast found that comes around and to waaaaait until the veeeeery last word to scrounge...
the evidence behind the intense sentiment? Just ask the dead of this? This keeps the heads adjusted of the living to trust this collection would be the kind towards which they should find a giving of attention.
So, agreed, a first place for a book, to set the pace for all those who just pause for a look. This would hook!
