Rather new here... So I thought I'd drop one of my fav. written peices...
Enjoy
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Every day.... Every fuckin day... The same Breakfast... The Same Road ....That same cubicle.. The Same People... Every Day... Every Single Day.. I can't do it..
Welcome to Satan's Heaven, where Every Room in the house is 8x11
Though Room is the wrong word... Jail Cell would better fit upon Inspection
Say Hi to Kevin... white Male, A Wife and 2 Kids he's 37
Manic Depression Running wild in Desprite need of Mentall Protection
Cuz in his Reasoning there's an Infection, Deep down some type of Sickness
Makes him Day Dream about Killing his boss and Any Witness
Dump his Corpse amongst the Fishes, A Scene so Vivid and Vicious
Yet It Bring's Joy to his day... It would Grant all On his Wish List
Social Life is Kind of Hit-Miss.. Not to many Friends to Speak About
Remebering High School kids.."GEEK!" They'd Shout, as Tears were steadily Leakin Out
His Father used to Preach of Doubt, " You'll NEVER BE ANYTHING!!! "
Which would explain the hate streaming through his blood.. It was In his Genes
But He Saw Hope in Many Dream's, A Beautifull Future and Pretty Scene's
Now He Sit's Day after Day Dreaming of Death by Any Mean's
Echoing Gun Shot's and Blood Splattered Computer Screen's
Last Breath's, Flesh..Splene's.. Death..Final rest and Women's Scream's
He Seem's Nicely Dressed, Fresh Cut and Clean, Conformity in It's Finest Form
But if you could see Deeper Inside He's Torn, Anything Besides the Norm
Volumes of Self Help Book's.. Counciling... Temporary Changes Inside his Dorm
Of Thought his Brain's Countinues to Rot Despite Reform, Cuz What Dwell's Within
Sudden Urges To Repell and Sin, Finiding It Humourus Making him Compelled to Grin
Figuring at Best God would only banish him into Hell... Again
SO He walk's down the Hallway to th rythm of a Demonic Violine
Leaking Hate through the many pore's that reside in his Skin
Trying not to remind himself insdie he's constantly Re-Defining Grim
Along with his Hair Line, His Time was Winding Thin, He Glances at a Broken Clock
The Moment was Near to Judge his Peer's and those who Joke and Moch
The One's Who Pointed and Laughed In Class and Threw Their Food and Trash
Who left his Bike Tire's Slashed and Went Shoulder first into him as he Passed
This god forsaken Office Staff... and All Their Whisper's behinde his Back
No Turning back now His Mind's on Track... 2 Gloves 6 Gun's and Enough Slug's
To have the Local PD awake all night dialing up their Loved Ones
This is It.... He can Rest The Weight's Finally Off His Shoulder's
For Them It's Just Begun, But for Him the Suffering's Over....
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