Remember me loud; remember me silent.
Remember the shroud of deathly pallor that engulfed my most violent streaks.
'Though I vowed every time to surrender my fists to the calmest of thoughts,
at best all my days have looked bleak.
And the nought which is I has but migraines to show I've been weak,
and I've cried when I should have just tried to resist and,
with the goal of surpassing existence, denied myself one more hour of bed.
Just to try and make sure I'm not dead.
Just to try and get out of my head.
Sarcastic poem I just wrote called Pray, for fuck's sake.
No bars and stripes and stars and strikes and scars and pipes that type in bold how cold's the road that paves this world untold by those who close the doors with prose composed without asking whether anyone's opposed. I proposed to expose those thoughts imposed on us but I froze at the sight of a fight fought in spite of what's common, brought on by difference instead of the deference shown by the powerful, people that own and condone such actions while sitting on thrones paid by loans that impoverish. O, how I wish I could do what I should to be good but it's rude to speak up while you're young -I've been told. I must wait till I'm old and my words can be crossed off as useless and listless senile rants. Wait? I can't. I can't wait to be too late. So please, dictate and I'll write and pretend it's alright to mindlessly do, say, allow and, dumbest of all... pray.
Pray so that GAY stays an insult.
Pray so that cults stay religions.
Pray so that I can stay special. Look over
and see everybody from atop my shoulder.
Say that we're bolder. Say that HE is great.
Bite the bait and don't forget to never ask why
Cause the end is nigh, the heathen's nether,
and birds of a feather... must flock together.
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