Selma on The Verge

 

I’m living with this unholy farce

Hidden so high away in the sky

Where the birds soar

Above our heads

 

Many maniacs have acted before me

Their birth a pretty grueling process

In turn this society weep

With the dissatisfaction of a dreamer that once

 

Thought there were going to be something else

To look forward to rather than this desolate entity

Thus, this anomaly floods through our brains

In an adamant turmoil

Beginning to make us bleed into blunder

 

And we live on; God’s rejects

Our home is the Wilderness

Where the animals lay

And dream.

Our place in society bland

 

All they see is this bane wickedness

This concept of the group that I am born into are all ill conceived

And we admit ruins us

But we are still breathing

 

An so, let us begin the re-socialization process

Place us in our total institution

Where we can bathe and breadth

Resting our weary heads on our white sheets

To lazily slumber on

With our eyes wide open

 

Tell me now, who have I influenced?

My power further disperses as it leaves my heated body

Seeping any of the energy I have to dispel into anyone of great inspiration

If I cannot resist my malignant master status

Then I’ll conceal my wilderness in the sky

 

Where my thoughts can float free

Onto a deserted pasture

And what faith cannot seek,

 

Are our demented souls roaming alone?

My neighbors will congregate to commence this involuntary degradation

And I’ll tell Mary that her mother was a whore.

 But she already realizes that as she wallows in isolation

 

Her anti-social nature eating up her and others

Maybe her friend Selma can convince her to pursue support

Maybe it’s just too late

They’ll just stone her with their de-individualization

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world

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