Really Nothing Else to Say
Here I am, then, he whose past crimes
Are so horrible I still have to pay for them.
People floating in and out of my life....
Have they no appreciation for what I go through?
I am expected to accept fate with a smile,
I am expected to not complain.
It is no stretch of the imagination for me
To see the entire world engulfed in flames,
The love and the passion within me which yearns to be released,
Nor to see it encased in desolate ice,
The indifference I receive in exchange for my faithfulness.
I smile, imagining everyone suffering.
Why not? Why bother caring?
Who cares for me, after all?
Death would be a slow thing, for these damned, suffering throngs,
Crying steam as they run mad through burning streets,
Their blood boiling like lava,
Molten justice for me.
Yes, let them burn, let them freeze,
Let them suffer a slow, painful, lonely death.
I smile at the thought.
June 19, 2001
Created 06/19/01 / Last modified 06/19/01 by
Giovanni Dania
Copyright (c) 2001 by
Oh My God I'm Bleeding Ventures