Poets are those who love,--who feel great truths, And tell them.

August 8, 2012

What Is It Like To Be Evil?

by Rachel
How does it feel to know everyone wants you dead?
To have to check your closet and under your bed?
You brought it on yourself you know,
Ripping children's dreams to shreds,
Acid spraying from your mouth as you speak,
Your selfish words are strong, beating the listener,
But your body and your arguments are weak.
The requested reaper waiting at every turn,
Conjured by your victims who will spit in your urn.
Every tear you force from an eye,
Is another wish that soon you will die.
You pretend to be innocent, like you've done no wrong,
But your lies don't last very long.
You get bloodshot eyes screaming over someone else's spilled milk,
Sticking your snickering nose in into everyone's life.
How can you sleep with these echoing cries?
Plummet off the highest of cliffs,
And give my murdered soul its dying wish.

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