I don't even know if this is a poem, it's just some shyt I wrote, I figured I'd put it here
In the darkened Soul of a mad genius, who hides his Sorrow in the shell of his heart, Lies the dormant spirit of a Loveless infant, Corrupted and abused by those who gave him hope, that perhaps he will one day grow...
Ying Yang, perfection, in his Soul, Sorrow and Love, but Sorrow encompasses the Soul, Love is surrounded and weakens, and those who wonder where his Love went, look inside themselves, and rest assured, their Love is there, as his Soul dies.
The Soul, dead, cancers the mind, into a twisted form of life, which no one can live, in subjugation of suffering, the body lashes out, and destroys the Souls of the Loved.
These Souls enter the mind of the demented man, through the wickedness of conscience, and torment the tortured, until he is unable to control that which was forced upon him, by those with Love, who spared none.
He rips his decayed Soul from his chest, crushing his Sorrow, and destroying his mind."
And another little one
Should I be destined, to walk in the Marshes of Life, wandering in the Muck of Deceit and Dirtiness of Betrayal, and emerge only to be covered by the Leeches of Love Snakes of Friendship?
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