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Stepped outside the box of madness
looking for light.
Found the universe’s biggest bulb
to be way too bright.
His hand rose to his face
and he was shocked by what he felt.
His eyes had fallen out of place,
his sun drenched face began to melt.
He rushed back inside trying to cool down
too late, his skin dripped, dropped to the ground.
Quickly he got on his knees hands moving fast,
collecting his flesh.
Did he really think he could leave so fast?
While the wound was still fresh?
And his ears still rang from the blast?
While picking up his skin from the carpet,
all he could think of was why.
He was a wise man
and knew he was dead
knew it didn’t take a bullet in the head
for him to die.
Though he put his eyes back in place
and patched up his flesh.
He new there was no chance for anew
no way in hell he could ever start fresh.
But what could he do? it wasn’t his fault,
she lied, she cried:
what he now knew were fake tears.
She gave herself to the world;
all the while she stopped being his.
While thinking of this,
and looking at her body lifeless
his rage went away, his answers became clear.
She was a whore! that’s what she was!
Although for four months she gave him none,
she fucked the whole world!
and tonight since he happened to walk in
she fucked him too!

I don't know what to title it!

10 Mar 07

(define the words in this poem)
(18 more poems by this author)

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some times i feel like this poem i loved it, it was amazing great work!!!
 — writenbylove

its pretty dull stuff
 — Mongrol