Come inside my lone abode,
Ye suffering ol' frickin toad.
Just what is it that clings inside
That keeps your mind awake at night?
See the stars, the sun, the light?
There's a deeper meaning beyond these sights.
Realize that you are not the only one
Traversing the dunes of life.
If a speck of sand got in your eye,
Don't be mad, don't even cry.
It will get better, like a wound healing.
Nothing remains broken in the world,
Because everything resolves itself,
No matter how long, no matter what means.
It's okay to embrace the pain,
For a helping hand is always present.
Insecurities fade away, and insignificance
Is but an illusion of an observer.
Life is a web of chaotic good and chaotic evil,
And you are its sole weaver.
Weave the best threads, discard the bad ones,
You are the spider, you are your own God.
See the poet poeting above me?
Haha, what a pathetic fucking cuck.
Hey, fag, you do realize you ain't going nowhere
With your mesmerizing words and those gay quotes?
Don't fucking kid yourself, everybody knows the type of people like you,
You think y'all doin what is right,
You think you're the face of righteousness and goodness.
You think the only way to cope is to rant fancily by making a gay poem about the hardships of life?
You think metaphors have a fucking power in this shitty ass world, huh.
Me, a spider? Fucking retard, I'm a human. Go get glasses, bitch.
Life ain't that fancy for you to transform its whole essence to fancy words.
Hell, my words are way fancier than yours.
See here: Go fuck yourself.
Feel the punch? Cause I don't tire myself searching for deep mumbo jumbos in the dictionary, unlike a retard like you.
My advice? Go fend for yourself, it's basic human nature.
When a push comes to a shove, you think other people would fucking help you?
When a knife is on your neck, will your friend be enlightened with goodness and help you?
Or will he be overcome by fear and he'll run like a coward, leaving you dead?
I'm betting on the latter, and please, if you disagree,
Prove me wrong, fag.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Of A Count
PoéziaThis book is not suitable for audiences with zero percent sense of imagination and a mental age of two and below. I'm not really a great poet, just a guy who knows how to hold the pen and write the twenty six letters of the alphabet. But I like thin...
