Calamity
• Written by Anonymous
Im in a position, in a prison striven from my decisions,
trapped between the rhythm, but if i was given the decision,
i wouldn't pay my tuition to break out of this imprisoning prism,
this sanity, isn't reality, just calamity, gravity isn't of my capacity,
my temple lacks a pulse, so i use flows that roast,
even the devil's toast, i walk around like ghost that's dosed,
supplemental overdose that has me at my lowermost,
cooking up a loafed roast, liquor dinner for the loathed,
i wish i was bitter richer so i could walked clothed,
i suppose if i grossed enough i'll open a black hole,
walk through it and never come back home,
there's only clouds up in my dome and a winds that blow,
in the shantytown bounds we hustle for the throne,
all the bushes rustle concealing trouble that goes unknown,
stones holding hate notes get thrown, an overloaded boat
can't stay afloat because of the hopes its holds.
The titanic was a tragic mishap in the middle of the Atlantic,
and listening to all of this chit chat has my neck whip lashed,
like a atomic blast that leaves behind only an amass of ash,
the path i walk bare foot is paved with glass, i was pushed
onto the grass, saved by an angel of shade that was graceful,
shown me the way the the ancient maple.
We're i was revealed of my painful plateful of rotten food,
the mood is softened like cotton now i got no problems.
Everyone secretly wants change,
but it's too difficult to face
what we plan for this race.
All cause of these phases we phrase that gets
stuck in our head for days,
just stays like a stain we can rub away,
or a scar, when we cut we cut too far or
a broken car missing an essential part
that makes it start. Your heart, might need
another heart to start beating instead of these
beatings your receiving, until the bruises are symmetrically even,
when you stand in the bathroom and stare, in the reflection
of the mirror you glare, prepare for whats next,
as pills they roll down your neck,
and that moment you wait util they take effect
until you feel sense of chill, then the pain is so unreal.
and suddenly the chill becomes as still as you feel.
I would like to over-demonstrate my pain by
slicing opening each one of your vains,
so i can spray it, dance, prance, like fairy
in a trance. Creating a painting of saten,
as im mis-translating my vessle is overtaken, but
inside the clock work has just been shaken.
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