2.
It is not beautiful; just beastly.
This world; my world.
It is just chaotic; not orderly.
This world; my world.
The weather's wacko-
an expected psycho.
There are no seasons-
as there is no rhyme or reason.
Not in anything;
not in anyone.
This world, my world- is keen
on no control, and all sin.
We say what is on our minds;
often unkind.
There are no laws-
to protect against the after effects
of our countless flaws.
It stinks.
We pee. We poo.
When our bladders are full,
there's no holding it in.
Even if there is no loo.
We do whatever we desire-
whenever we desire-
with no consequences-
except maybe guilt's fire.
Not so innocent;
nothing like Jesus in his manger.
We all have our anger.
We know we'll never forget
the guilt's flames, and our regret-
but we can't stop it.
Our anger finds an outlet.
No words from anybody
can soothe the rage,
it'd take more than a mage,
to stop us.
We are all criminals,
barely past animals,
even a child like I.
I turned into one
when I was five,
when I first met my parents,
when they were still alive.
Before I...
You don't need to know.
You wouldn't want to.
~
YOU ARE READING
EDGE
PoetryEdge, Katia and Vitria will fight their world where the bad to the worst, is a daily reality. Fight it to the death. This is on hold, sorry. I'm a bit stuck on what to write next and to be honest, I've forgotten where I wanted this to go and just...
