Poetry#1

God scripted my way down south

And I don't want to go back home,

Darkness is my serenity don't you see

The illusions of bad is the norm for me

Because I tried to succeed but I'm blown every time,

And every time I fall I hear the soul chime

Then I have an urge for pain; a final bedtime.

It's as if I'm cursed like a kindled gulf of fire

Burning my ashes overtime as I get older

The church is looming, I sense the welcoming choir

I'm the green-eyed monster of every ones smile

I o'er rauhot my emotions by thinking suicidal

Vindictive, wall-eyed at people as I stand idle.