I send this message to the one who stole my place,
to the one who thinks that without prints he can get away.
Now I asure you that was your mistake,
to think that I would let you go without putting on you the blame.
You Sir, are sick, demented, and just plain old mean.
I gave you just a bit of freedom and you use it agaisnt me.
You imbecile, look at what you've become,
what you have turn this place into.
But I guess is safe to say that I for one
am free to do as I wish to.
I mean look at both of us and compare:
I am a free man, a genious, and without a care.
And you for your ignorace are now pain dearly.
I, with a hand full of dreams and the heart to make them.
You, nothing but you're empty sack of tricks
so to me, pay close attention.
I gave you an order, a simple one it seemed,
to guide the body through the way that was simple and clean.
Yet somehow you've manage to ruin even that,
now no part of it is clear, not one intact.
It was all meant to be simple
you dumb, stupid, no good ingrate.
And after everything that I've done,
every singe talent that God put on you, using it like trash.
At least I know I'm safe,
the sin that you did won't stain me.
But it is a pitty truly what I feel,
you could of done so much,
yet you've done so little.
You, unintelligent, barking dog,
who takes orders from it's master like any trained one.
Me, a free, wise and noble spirit
with a wish to someday the sky reach.
I say to you one more time,
I say to you while the sun is still bright.
Get up and moving while you still can,
because if the trumpet sounds, it shall be your end
YOU ARE READING
Ti'll I awake at Dawn
PoetryMy first poetry book published on this site. Can the heart be condemned for wanting more than darkness? Is life really too much to ask? Or have our sins cover us in such a way that it prevented us from seeking what is true in life: love, joy and the...