The blood in my veins
boil as it splatters
against the carpet.

I glare with a hatred,
that brings me no joy.
With the broken sad,
tragic, pathetic people
trying to find some sort
of joy in death.

How I wish I could
just destroy these people,
but I realize that
these people with their
vanity are our world.

And I start to grow
vex with this world.
When a life is taken,
and all there is
a growing fad of sympathy.

I become empty and void,
and want nothing to
do with them anymore.

And the music of my
generation gives me little
hope of you and me.

Sadly I sit in a lonely tree,
and wish the world would just
end and hope I won't see
the tragic youth.

11/13/2007

Posted on 11/14/2007
Copyright © 2024 Christopher Shin