Short Poems from a Seriously Disturbed Mind . . .

Poem 1:
You can always tell,
When people have their hearts torn apart by juvenile crushes
They seem ripped and betrayed,
Feel like nothing goes their way.
But then,
Something happens,
And all is good again,
Even though secretly,
They hate life.

Poem 2:
Sometimes,
On a rather bloody Monday,
Or a painful Tuesday,
Or a tired Wednesday,
A restless Thursday,
A long, drawn-out Friday;
I wait for the weekend to come.
And when it does,
I want it to be Monday or Friday, or Wednesday again.

Poem 3:
Schizophrenia over takes a mind
Divides it and multiplies
Subtracts reality
Adds fantasy
Creates euphoria
Destroys meaning
But in the end
All is equal.

Poem 4:
Corpses line highways
Piled up high
To the ceiling
To the sky
They stretch so far
So far that your eye no longer sees
Repetitive destruction
Only new, more harmful ways
Ways that terrorize
Paralyze
Make you feel like little darts
Of self-inflicted pain

Poem 5:
Dark and black . . . dark and black
Fills the heart
Consumes the soul
Takes control
Of weak minds
Battered minds
Abused, misused minds
Black and dark . . . black and dark . . .
Torturous new hell

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A/N: Look, I wrote these during English. Normally I'm not so depressing,
but when you're bored, things sort of come out (like true feelings about
things) anyway, if you absolutely loathe it, then go ahead and say so.
It's a little thing called 'fuel for thought,' at least, for me . . .