I live in the devils’ group home, fiends and demons haunt me
Voices coming from the walls scream and say that they want me
The housemates are gaunt and they taunt with a radiant rage
It’s cold as an ice age and I’m locked in a cage in the center on stage
They engage a game called joint to flame where you forget your name
Nothing’s the same, everything is peace and tame
My eyes straight dilate while I’m smoking and toking
Fucking noises got me tripping as I’m sipping the Yeagar, slowly choking
The things that go bump in the night are outright provoking
White dreams and fright screams, in the distance someone is croaking
Shuddery shadows in the creaks of the halls, leaks in the walls
Waking up to night terrors when a voice calls
A bloody broken body crawls and falls in place
I’m just so spaced out, the mirror has no face
Am I tripping or am I truly insane?
My brain feels chopped up like cocaine
All these things happening to me are so inhumane
I have to restrain from spilling my vein
Too much bud in my blood to drain
I have a suicidal lifestyle to maintain
Nobody out there knows what’s going through my domain
The only one that knows my pain is Mary Jane
This is something that I simply cannot explain
Fuck all the doctors I am not depressed
I’m possessed at best
The devil’s keeping everything suppressed
I listen to what the voices suggest
Is this a test from God?
Or do I ingest what’s odd?
Not even my Ipod turns away this kind of day
I would picture music drowning out everything they say
So I self destruct everything fucked with a jay
I’d ask for higher help but it hurts too much to pray
So in the end I just obey and play
And I’ll probably play until the day that I decay
Delusions in my head and conclusions I’m dead
How can I be alive or survive with all the things that are said
I have to commit the deeds that must be done
And while I’m at it try and have some fun
I can’t outrun a gun
Two people standing and there can only be one
The guilt and pressure weighs a ton
But in the devils’ group home you are second to none
I feel an itch when I cross a snitch
My eyes twitch when I see a bitch
I can’t escape my thoughts
I’m in no shape for plots
To continue taking shots
And get faded in spots
I can’t help but laugh when I blaze with staff
Buy Green Crack sacks on their behalf
My mouth is sour from an hour of Mec
I take rain checks and switch to train wreck
I like to get drunk when I smoke Skunk
Wear a disguise with red eyes, my thoughts shrunk
And take a chunk out of junk food
Everything is subdued
I pursued this mood and now I’m secluded
I don’t mean to be rude but I’m just highly deluded
I know that God is almighty and greatly forgiving
But will he forgive the way that I have been living
I live in the devils’ group home what a life to acquire
All that’s left is to end misery and set the house on fire
-
Author:
Rob (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 14th, 2011 20:17
- Comment from author about the poem: Not my most fluffiest bunny poem but I always wanted to write something real about the grouphome I went to.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 71
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, SauravRHS
Offline)
Comments3
Wow. Sounds "hellish." What is the point of such places if that is the real truth about them? Why do they consign anyone to such "hellholes"? Yet "....there is forgiveness with Thee that Thou mightest be feared..." Thank you for this intro..."nasty" is too genteel a word for it. It's not now, right?
You mean if I'm in the grouphome? No I got out last year. It wasn't the best place to live in but I still learned things there and grew up. I don't mean to make places like this sound okay but if I never went there I never would've been able to make my own decisions and learn from them... and yes at times it was pretty "hellish".
Sounds like a rap from some Eminem number. I loved reading it!
I'm guessing the Eminem number was either Demons Inside... just a guess though... thanks for reading.
No no. I am not saying it is copied or something. I am saying that it is just like Eminem has written another song. It is so good! How did you learn the art of writing this kind of stuff?
Oh I never assumed that. I was just guessing. I like alot of music and the music that I listen to and go off of instrumentals. I don't write music or anything but if I had the time I may. I started writing when I was a kid and I wasn't really good but I got placed in placements and in those places the only time consuming thing to do was write and etc. I can't trulty admit my writing is "Good" now but as time continues I'm sure I can get this poetry stuff down. I also listen to people like Tech N9ne and when I'm listening to that I'm listening to that just thinking, "Damn I'm in a grouphome and we all do that." My poetry is life and my life is poetry. Sometimes it writes itself. Thanks for liking my poetry 🙂
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