|
Possibly Triggering - Random poem type thing
Er yeh, started writing this about the thread being empty cos was in a silly mood. But then it changed...
The thread is dead.
The thread is dead
and my name's fred
and i want to go to bed
on a sled
and be fed
and bled
no i don't want to be fed
but i do want to be bled
but not fed
or dead
i don't want to be dead
do you hear?
listen through your ear
and never fear
i will never drink beer
only cider my dear
you don't love me
you don't care
i just want to sleep with my bear
and not be bare
cos that would scare
everyone
it would traumatise
burn your eyes
kill all the flies
hide me under my disguise
the tries
i did not score
cos i'm a stupid whore
and a bore
always end up on the floor
slam the door
in my face
cos i'm a disgrace
didn't get a place
or a face
not enough grace
not enough mace
maybe it was the brace
that tore me up and made me bleed
so heed
i want to plant the seed
make it grow
and grow
and grow
until the scary wind will blow
i won't blow
i'll never blow
it would take away the beauty
even though
there was never any beauty when it tried to grow
beautiful flower
give me the power
i look at you and glower
just look at the hour
its getting late
please dont hate
because I'm irrate
irrational
irregular
irrep-it-ilously-impo-tomely-ate
the gate
is locked and bound
i'll never be found
not even by a hound
i'll be by the mound
of years ago
where we would put on a show
but never blow
i cannot go
it makes me sick
when I think of the slick
sliding up and down real quick
too thick
too quick
it makes me pick
and pick
and pick
and pick
my face, its covered in big red holes
with spots like mounds for the moles
i have no coals
to keep me warm
away from harm
please remain calm
if you see my arm
i know it makes you sad
cos im bad
through
and through
and through and through
but don't be mad
or sad
or glad
don't tell me that I'm bad
i know i'm bad
not good enough
need to get tough
and rough
so i'll call your bluff
help me remember stuff
whatever happened when i was young
it stung
and stung
and stung
and stung
i have to know, please tell me now
i don't care where or when or how
what made me such a cow?
maybe i should just take a bow
hang up my shoes and never come back
never suffer another attack
i'll live in a shack
down a beaten track
with nothing but a little pack
of chocolate, and an anorak
and maybe a woven sack
to hide the blood
and hide the shame
of never being given a name
but receiving all the blame
without the inevitable fame
what a stupid game.
|
