I am a sick child of a sick society, I cant get enough of my propriety, And I cant do without a deity. Addicted to the slavery of the mighty, I remain sick. I allow others to pick On me. And then mimic The consequences as though a magic trick Just got me. Hic! Oh yes I drink a lot. For that is the only shot That gets me out of the slot, Puts me back on the dot To ask that one question, ‘What?’ I never ask ‘Why?’ For I am not wired that way by The sick society. And so I magnify The same sickness I lived by. I twist and turn and squeeze it dry Until all that is left is a smile, faint Enough to kill a sick saint.
Posted on: Fri, 19 Jul 2013 18:44:08 +0000
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