I'm tired with these dopey eyes,
About things I have no control,
Weary teary why cry?
Kill me I'm losing my compose.

I'm taking sleeping meds feeling dope,
Trying to function with the rest of the family,
I fell short everytime, feeling like a loser with no hope,
I can't get it right no natter what I Inframe.

I feel sick with every heart skip,
I wanna cry, but tears cleanses nothing,
Tears won't quench the fire in my tits,
My kindness ain't for others to take for fronting.

Men’s lust and greed have taken you
My child I cry for your innocence
They have stripped you bare
No family’s arms to hold you

Servants of greed have taken you
Your life a nightmare of mindless pain
Filth in their trade of your young flesh
We can only hope, without fulfilment

Traders have destroyed your childhood needs
Shackled by incessant lust of crippled minds
Caging youth in destruction of slavery
Where broken wills, make children slaves

I find few things more annoying
than the overblown tendency
of poets who believe they are
dispensing great, subtle, wisdom
when they are simply muttering
sad words they feel are important
while the rest of us recognise
these are just inconsequential
half formed thoughts completely without
merit or radiant ideas.
It is like a gathering of
crows, each one shouting at the top
of their lungs that they are pretty.
Not me, of course, I am special.

I met you in September
Oh! How I do remember
We stumbled into December
Still a lonely member
January set us on a fire
Only for the rain of winter to come
To wash away all that was prior
No more messages
No more kisses
All that is left are the other fishes
Her tears could cry a sea of creatures
But the only creature she wants
Is the only one she misses