Dark Poetry From A Twisted Mind
Born Dead
I am,
Have always been,
Will always be…
Dead.
My skin
A pasty white,
Feels like silk ~
Unharmed by the elements:
The sun,
The wind,
The rain.
I stroke my arm:
In awe
Of the softness,
The purity…
Yet some
Animal hatred
Within me
Howls
At the injustice:
These beautiful,
Young,
Suntanned people:
In shorts,
Hawaiian shirts,
& sandals…
Talking,
Joking,
Giggling…
So animated,
So… alive.
And I wonder
What hideous god
Allowed me
To be born
Dead.
copyright 2018
By Insomnia
Have always been,
Will always be…
Dead.
My skin
A pasty white,
Feels like silk ~
Unharmed by the elements:
The sun,
The wind,
The rain.
I stroke my arm:
In awe
Of the softness,
The purity…
Yet some
Animal hatred
Within me
Howls
At the injustice:
These beautiful,
Young,
Suntanned people:
In shorts,
Hawaiian shirts,
& sandals…
Talking,
Joking,
Giggling…
So animated,
So… alive.
And I wonder
What hideous god
Allowed me
To be born
Dead.
copyright 2018
By Insomnia
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Born Dead
Born Dead
