can we just rip this sepia-colored photograph to pieces
and let the memory burn a hole in our minds?
because i have better things to do than to be a
sacrificial lamb in the name of society's assets;
life, love, marriage, babies, pension.
just the thought of it makes me want to smash a mirror to pieces,
(seven years of bad luck and hey, if i'm lucky, that might just hold true)
and freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose, right?
you're all clean and pristine when even Jesus
had the decency to be killed and buried,
give me a cracked CD case and some valium,
give me a tequila shot,
give me a razor –
hell, just give me a handpicked sin and let me get rid of my halo.
stripping it down to the bones, all the time spent
keeping up the façade in the face of a
a/n: this was a challenge, which got my creative juices flowing like you wouldn't believe. the poem had to include the words "lamb," "life" and "freedom."