First poem here....a lil rusty.


We're already cattled headed to a slaughter,
Why bother, i wont live devoting to one "father",
its pathetic, im poetic, and express feelings thru letters.

Poor inoccents torn thru in the middle of a sentence,
death isnt surposed to be thought of as brillance,
mah life's thread is like quills on the feathers.

Life spent wasting on crying instead of standing,
life spent told whut to do, instead of demanding,
Blood feels like oil, due to being treated like a machine.

This is the human race, how do we all feel,
sometimes unreal, sometimes like overkill,
sometimes we beat round a bush, call another a fiend.

All in all we live to die, and waste alot, then cry,
Why spend lives on another, not life, why?
we're all branded and all lost.