He knew it was poisonous,
but it was all too much.
To him it was a coping mechanism.
It got him through the day.
All the things he expected
that did not turn out
the way he expected them to
tormented his sober mind.
The mind needed some sort
of a distraction, something to
put the pressure off.
Poisonous it may be,
it took the pressure off.
All the missed chances,
all the chances that were not taken,
all the losses in that moment
they did not matter.
He once cared how he looked,
but no more. If it wasn’t for it,
he would have even jumped
on to a highway, not caring what happens.
He knew it was poisonous,
but it was all too much.
The pain was too deep.
A bad seed provided him with life.
what some do
thinks it right too
its wrong
they can't go on
we have a jod
its odd
we must do indeed
stop the
BAD SEED
She brags about everything she has
With childish hyperbole, arrogance, hubris
No humility, no empattthy, no conscience
That's why full of s**t rhymes with narci666tic
Her celebration - - - expecting wedding presents
Blessings and gifts for a child molester?
What would be apropos?
Perhaps a bridal bouquet - - -
Hmmmm - - - how about - - -
A circle of vienna sausages on sticks
Surrounded by an array of baby's breath?
field of planted seeds
moonlight rises zombies
evil road exceeds
detache bodies
no lawyers doctors just a nobody
And we, the bad seed,
will follow with impulse
of devil games in sweet
compulsions.
And we, the bad seed,
our hearts swell like
filled balloons that is to burst.
Excitement shakes and eagerness
is never ending- one and one
crime after another.
We come to
cross the invisible line
under the eyes who watch us
furiously.
We watched the blurry scenes of life flash on by,
and felt the shooting pains
that lasted only minuets.
But when those minuets passed, it was all forgotten.
These spirits (who watched us with
curious and angered eyes) push and drag
our souls, (wrestling us to the ground)
and we shake with the hands
of Devil himself.
The pain storms in through infinite
lingering waves of time,
and justice is served hot,
hot enough to blacken the skin to crisp.
- Cursed is the name that is given
in Hell.
** This poem is dedicated**
To the families and kin
Who struggle to stay afloat
******In this world of sin******
Nobody cares about him
He's a troubled teen
Just throw him in confinement
Throw away the key
Rehab not necessary
He's just a troubled teen
It does not matter
That he comes from a broken home
That he has no food to eat
Just a bad seed
Growing old in the cold city streets
Jared Pickett.....:JP]
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