sorebiker

How many ways do you know how to die?

I can think of four or five,
thousand ways to kill them all,
or kill myself and be done with it all.

There is never a day I do not fall,
rarely a day I like what I saw.

Comforting sights to the whitest of eyes,
are hideous sights to the blackest of minds.
So many flaws, so many kinds.
Surely this world can not be mine?

Occassionaly thought, "Should I try?"
Would it have been enough to be alive?
I rather ponder new ways to die.

I do not see what has infected their minds.
Too many worry about crossing some line?
Cross, and conquer lines that lay in the mind.

In a world where inhibitions run rampant,
I find myself prisoner in the enemy encampment.

Original thought, scarce and rare.
Why is it they do not dare?
To think for themselves,
maybe is too hard.
Without a leader,
how to play the card?

Which, of all ways, do I want to die?