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Poem

A broken heart 
Bleeding cripple
Lying there, we break apart
Yet our tears cease to make a single ripple

Your perfume smells of roses
And dirty gasoline
You cause this mess
to be seen as a pleasant scene
One of screaming children
and dying mothers
Lost little sisters
cradling long gone brothers

Sexy imbeciles flaunting their scars
Breast implants and nose reduction
While a teenage wasteland errupts
Hitting straight through passing cars

They don't feel it
and they don't see
That soon the pieces will move
The sexy imbecile will be me

I will show them what they refuse to see
I will show them, the beauty I will be
And then, maybe, my insecurity will be free
Because the only way to be happy 
Is to be anything but me

That is what is tought
It is only what we preach
To our children our loved ones
Greed is it to which we teach

You can buy our love 
Feed our hate
Believe there is an unseen above
Leaving nothing to fate
Everything has to be planned
It has to be perfect
Maybe then you'll understand

That the irony 
is not the destuction I see
But the fact that I'll never be free
Because I can never be happy
No, not with me

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