Who am I, oh, who am I?
Just a poser child Borderline?
A series of bold contradictions
Led on by doctors false predictions
Diagnosing all the time...
Angry outbursts fill the air,
Throwing objects everywhere,
They drug me up, because they're lazy
It's too much work to help the crazy
I hate the pills, but they don't care
Take the drugs, and you'll feel better,
We'll smoke some bud, and chill together
But even if I smoked the weed
Surely that's not all I need
The lovely high won't last forever
I get attatached to everyone,
But when they get too close, I run
So many arrows in my heart
Cupid shoots, but then I part
Not phased by all the wrong I've done
So put me on more medication,
I'll throw in some dedication,
But even then it's not enough
This emptiness is still too tough
All that's left is contemplation
She devoted her time to poetry and blogs
Addressing his many nonexistent flaws
As if his was the family, being neglected
While she refused to address his rejection
And became something too sad to even mock
You see, Dawn had succumbed to her invective
Unmedicated and overprotective
But of all the wrong things -
The lies about herself she struggled to maintain
And an impossible dream objective
And so, Dawn rots away
Her own twisted mind's slave
Spending time on a man who will never love her
Of whose affections, she is quite sure
While the ones who do care about her are estranged
She thinks only of herself
And ignores her child's wails
Mocks her husband's needs
She is the epitome of greed
And of failing mental health
Her words against him are an inner reflection
Of the emptiness that has become her own life's direction
She gets more repulsive as she pines away
And her husband is tempted to stray
But she thinks he is a fool to her deception
And most of us caught in her narrative live on
While she babbles like a moron
Taking her hate and lies wherever she can
To try and further convict an innocent man
Oh, what a sad old witch, that Dawn!
Your body men desire
It fills them full of fire
They want so much
To feel the touch
The gifts you have for hire.
You walk the streets so dark
Your future bleak and stark
You work for bugs
To buy the drugs
That really hit the mark.
Your pimp is a drug dealer
A professional money stealer
You feel the pain
Hooked on cocaine
He is your true fate-sealer.
You passing nobody to mourn
Thirty years since you were born
You only know your punter
Who really was your hunter
But it’s you the people scorn!
There was a young man lived in Dover
And he was the son of a rover
He fell into the sea
Cause clumsy was he
A shark came and it was all over.
There once was this girl who was pretty
Who resided in New York City
Got mugged Friday night
Weak attempt at a fight
Life as a harlot is such a pity
A sad old flea and a silly old gnat
were boogieing it down
on the neck of an aristocrat
When suddenly Splat
And that was that
Through the most simple of things, such as a bed time or favorite music
I've defined myself - one who knows an answer, but will not use it
One who soars with a mind of chaos, with both feet remaining still
Walking and learning with the normal, with a mind completely ill.
When desks transformed into prison cells, wise words left unspoken
The label for my knowledge remained, a pale grey, yet unbroken
Defined by numbers I'd glued to my brain, while never knowing why
I'd been imprisoned in a classroom - my mind floating with the sky.
Soon scholars transformed to prisoners while bandits became the brains
Impossible dreams and visions lived, through those they called insane
My vision burned with eyes shut, as imagination fed the flame
From then perception altered greatly while my eyes remained the same.
A bed time - at first a rule to live by, now signals my dreaming
A simple song - once a background, now the heart of my breathing
One who used to shed tears over reality, I now smiled
Dreams distort the reality of one whose heart becomes wild.
In a game of chance where winner takes all
Won one million pounds on the last ball,
To celebrate my win
Marriage gave way to sin,
The Judge demands a national recall.
The days seem so much closer together now , It is hard to keep up. Months click by me like weeks . Is this my time running out.
I seem to lose things more often then I remember annd sometimes I need help . Am I going to forget it all before my time runs out.
So many more soreness it seems and I am sleeping alot . Will I sleep my days away?
My dreams are confusing to me , I sometimes am not sure what is dream and what is real . It wont matter cause my time has run out.
It's a wonderful thing this life we have , But it is much better when your time runs out. That' what this life's about. Flow with time and dont worry about time running out .
Their flashy words so rhetorical
Nothing new, just all historical
Words pregnant with deceit
Costumes mailed, in receipt
Unmasked, see... most are identical
For Carolyn's "Election Humor Contest"