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Only nothing breaks the silence
Unyielding quiet plays its part
Sit and watch as others fumble
Tumble o’er their broken heart

What causes me to hate the peace
Distrust the calm and curse the silence
Forces me to search for conflict
Ache for hatred, long for violence

Anything in word or deed
To show me that emotion churned
Would lift me from my peaceful prison
To wherever feelings burn

Turbulent calm I hate you so
Deceptive in your quiet way
Mistaken for contentedness
You tuck all of our wants away

And though I fill the aching void
With a thousand pointless games
In the end the need is there
And all our problems still remain

How can life ever be lived
If needs are always kept inside
And failure is always excused
And in ourselves we always hide

Come out, come out wherever you are
You self-fulfilling prophesy
Fear creates its own excuses
Who will fall for this? Not me

Trauma is so common now
In this pathetic USA
Everything becomes a crisis
An excuse for a wasted day

Little people running about
How I despise you all
Because the better things become
The easier to fall


And you are weak, you pitiful creatures
Every one born like a king
And yet you fret away your life
Relationships and everything

With excuses piling high
And action nowhere to be seen
Your awful lives are getting worse
And you can’t seem to do a thing

THERE IS NO EXCUSE! No horrid past
That makes your lack of action right
That gives you reason for apathy
I have no pity for your plight

Get over yourselves for once in your life
And do something for another
Despite the strain this will put on you
I have no doubt that you’ll recover

And talk to each other! Explain to them
Just how having them makes you feel
Because those who you care about
Are the one thing in your life that’s real.

Allow me to be selfish now
And give this final plea
I’m willing to give to everyone
Is anyone willing to give to me?
©2006-2009 ~undergroundwalruss
:iconundergroundwalruss:

Author's Comments

It's 2 in the morning, comprende?

ANYWAY, this is a poem about people and how they suck. One could argue that the better people's lives are, the more they suck. Long story short, I am sick of excuses, of people talking about how they were just "born a certain way" and therefore can't help the way they are. The poem goes really random places, but it's late, so whatever.

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October 25, 2006
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