This isn't a poem.
This is a young naive person writing down the everyday thoughts that they have.
This isn't a story.
It's a person who hates almost everyone and everything for the soul purpose that they exist.
This isn't a happy go lucky person.
She'd much rather be gone, far away. She hates almost everyone she meets, because everyone is ignorant. They don't see what's happening even though it happens right in front of their fucking faces.
Everybody thinks there's some master plan for everyone.
Is there? Is there really?
If there's actually people that control everything, can somebody hand me a steak so I can drive it through their black souls.
How could someone pick on somebody's innocent soul. Turn the most human like person into someone who can't even think for themselves. How could they pick who lives and who dies?
That shouldn't be one persons job. It would drive them insane with power and greed. It would literally crumble everything.
Think about it.
You and everyone you love is going to eventually die. Everyone. Eventually the earth will have completely new people, it won't even be the same.
What happens after death? Is it like an endless dream that you never wake up from? Or are we reborn? What if one of the thousands of gods is real, and you only get one chance to decide if who's real and who isn't?
What if you choose wrong? What will happen? Is it like an endless torment, you can always see the life line that holds you, but can never reach it.
How the hell can people have a living body but not a living soul?
I'm going fucking insane.
YOU ARE READING
When I was Ten
PoetryI used to write poetry. I found a bunch of poems in my closet, and decided to post them here. Some sad, some happy. New, old, and everything in between! Just a whole lot of poems, thrown into one story.
