I am bad.
I keep doing bad things.
I won't forgive.
I lie.
I steal.
I cheat.
I am.
That's the worst part.
I am.
Doing things wrong
Clumsily trying
Clumsily living
Not dying.
I don't deserve death.
He is the love of my life that I cannot obtain.
It is the luxury I cannot afford.
They are the parents that I did not receive.
It is the kindness that I will not get.
I do not deserve death.
I keep being bad.
I keep being bad.
Water to purge the bad
Blood to purge the bad
Pills to purge the bad
Torture to purge the bad
But THE BAD IS STILL THERE.
Why don't they beat me?
I am bad!
I need to be hurt!
It doesn't help anymore.
Not in the way it is supposed to.
Shoes.
Head.
Shoes.
Head.
Shoes.
Head.
Crack.
Shoes.
Crack.
Head.
Red.
Head.
Crack.
Blood.
Nothing.
Then I wake up.
Now I am awake.
I am.
But what am I?
Not dead.
No, not dead.
Just bad.
YOU ARE READING
CORRUPT
PoetryA bunch of poorly-written poetry about hating me. Come join the fun (or not. You should probably just ignore this). All are welcome, few will stay, sure, that's fine and that's okay.
