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#poetrywars pop goes the pistol through my head I lay in the bedroom unspeakably dead No one will ever think about my body on the bed No one will wonder the last words I said
Why must they hurt for the sin of our crime? For the hate that we chime? We hear but do not listen, We look but do not see. Distracted towards the right of humanity, But blinded by the greed of sanity.
Lost in all my sins I feel as though I am boiling in my skin. All my tears have bled from me, Left me to drown in my sea. I have no more emotion in store And I can cry no more.
I am inadequate. (is that an SAT word?) adj. lacking the quality or quantity required; insufficient for a purpose In a world chock full of Merit Scholars, and teenage charity founders, and tech wizards,
We all have our beasts While caged, on our souls it feasts Devouring even priests