Every damn painting on this wall-
I will rip them down.
The money which is funneled
towards spineless men,
with their hats full of the dead,
throws me for a loop.
The basement,
full of furnaces,
throws me thousands
of little, painful ailments.
I tried to tell you
that I admire your situation,
but you threw me out of the window
so that I may fall
twenty feet down,
through the air,
and onto the thoroughfare
of your frontyard.
Years I could've spent with you
and you'd never understand me
because the one who keeps themselves
deaf, blind, and stiff
is still just you.
Your eyes are too human
and that makes you guilty
and unamusing.
You understand that much,
at least, don't you?
YOU ARE READING
the Dawning of Rage (poetry)
PoetryThis is a book of enraged poems. Don't say I didn't warn you! The purpose of this book, essentially, serves as a therapeutic outlet. This is NOT some manifesto, but a place of expression. Feelings of such loathing and hate, I don't believe, should b...
