They call this feeling down in the dumps,
People who have it slink off to the slums.
Yet something else lurks far beneath it,
Something which its owners fear to sheath.
Rage boils over and over again,
Leaving me to always feel the same.
I feel horrible, ugly and detested,
People who scorn come out in masses.
Each step I take upon life's track,
They easily surpass with no excuse to slack.
I feel useless at everything, good for nothing,
Nothing keeps track to time except clock's clicking.
Curling up in a corner of the cold room,
Staying, rocking in silent gloom.
There is love, hope and joy,
But from sights like these I chose to recoil.
They were the same desires which led,
Me to seas of lust and waves of dread.
Longing so much for pleasure's light kiss,
How all humans chose to escape all this!
I end it all with a staff to call my own,
I chose to reside within silver domes.
Where spears, knifes, back-stabbing hands,
Are all prohibited from my lands.
I will find consolation with those like me,
Whose souls others simply refuse to see.
We do our best each day and night,
Yet sometimes our efforts remain hidden from sight.
I'll just stay hidden from sight,
From dark cold, fires aglow.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
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