The page.
 

Pages of scrutiny, wallow in my eyes grace.
Cement emotions, cracked & laid to waste.
Exposure of jealous ones, bound to be despised.
But I can see pity, on the pages with my eyes.
Pupils inflate, skim over these words of sin.
The hate, diabolic remarks make one shudder & cringe.
Flowing incidents appear in my mind, I wonder for...
Ignoring this hate, & striving for so much more.
Peace of mind strewn in tatters, for it shall die.
For I shall not let these remarks, bleed me dry.
Emotions fondle each other, which one to release.
Anger, hate, despisement, deceit, all swell up in me.
From the ink formed into demons of thought.
My conclusive train of thoughts wrought.
Sought for harmony, to forget all the rage.
To die with dignity, and to turn chapters...
Not the page.

Bump.
.
.
.
.
Bump.