The Voice of A Dead Man

 



We see them walk the streets,

Clad in rags and oozing filth,

They’re rowdy, smelly, and God accursed,

The trash to society’s zenith image,

We lift our noses and look the other way,

Get violent, awfully wary, lest they rob us,

We look at them and wish them death,

And every time we do that,

These roses just die a little,

 

We call them clingy,

Walk over them whenever they lunge at us,

We highroad them and feel justified,

Justified to judge them for being different,

I don’t know what’s worse,

To hate for hate’s sake,

Or,

Hate for love’s sake,

We push them away and let them out in the wild,

They strip, thieve, drink, and anything else that helps numb the pain,

We hate the monsters we make,

But each time we do,

They all just die a little,

 

We laugh at them whenever they try,

And say they’d never make it,

We look down on them for quitting,

When every nerve in our bodies gets its thrills from the prospect,

We tell them, “Don’t try too hard, it’s a turnoff!”

But,

Later criticize them for not trying hard enough,

It may be hackneyed, putrid, or even disgusting,

But I just realized,

Every time we do this,

These roses just die a little,

 

Don’t even know where am going with this,

I really do hate society!

@Job Kerry

 

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Job Kerry
Name's Job Kerry. Bit of a loner, bit of an eccentric, and bit of awesome. I loooove music and deep reflection in nature. Check me out on twitter @jkerry66 and IG @job_kerry66