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These are my streets.
This is my life.
Stabbed in the back with a homemade knife
Footsteps on the concrete, sounds of life in my ears.
Sounds that ignite and re-fuel my fears.
Jump over a fence, hop over a wall.
"Out of my garden!", the angry voice, it calls.
I'm not a rebel, fighting for a cause,
I'm just some punk kid, didthatmakeyoupause?
Or do you think I'm crying out for attention,
labeled in a file entitled "Causes and Prevention."
Keys in the brass, opening the lock,
me Da's drunk again, the overweight c**k.
Up to my room, hearing the abuse, head now thumping. Sanity loose.
Time for the noose?
So.
Who the hell am I?
Where is my abode?!
I'm just that "Quiet kid."
And I live down the road.
- Title: There's no place like home...
- Artist: Zzzonked
- Description: Just a poem I thought of at 3am in the morning. I'm not really into poetry as much as, say, just writing, but I thought this sounded pretty good. The underlining thing is experimental, rip it to shreads if you want.
- Date: 07/05/2009
- Tags: violence teenager abuse rebel thoughtprovoking
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Comments (2 Comments)
- Zzzonked - 07/05/2009
- Exactly. Its poetry. Who gives a ********?
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- RisexWithxthexDead - 07/05/2009
- Sure I like it, some is a bit inappropriate, but then again, who gives a hell? XD
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