a new poem

[hop]

my creative muse has not been very helpful lately, but here is 1 more
effort

how many have you known the pain of loss and grief? the emptiness of a
vacuum, where one finds no relief? every day i see every cheering
happy fool for such i'm pathetic, merely a broken tool sleep eludes me
hard, it doesnt even try its absence makes me want to perish, even cry
my pants reek of feces, urine and other things laundry is no concern
when my depression sings

i hope u like it

[harry]

On Mon, 2 Apr 2012 18:42:06 -0700 (PDT), hop

Post by hop
my creative muse has not been very helpful lately, but here is 1 more
effort
how many have you known the pain of loss and grief? the emptiness of a
vacuum, where one finds no relief? every day i see every cheering
happy fool for such i'm pathetic, merely a broken tool sleep eludes me
hard, it doesnt even try its absence makes me want to perish, even cry
my pants reek of feces, urine and other things laundry is no concern
when my depression sings
i hope u like it

what kind of of loser writes poems like this ?
telling the whole world that his own life is amiss...

if it had the guts to take its own advice,
it would run to its kitchen and fall on a knife...

but wait... there is no backbone in a jellyfish,
only babbling on and on encouraging someone else's death wish...

its poems give no good advice at all,
being full of bitterness, deceit and gall...

[Ishtar]

Post by harry
On Mon, 2 Apr 2012 18:42:06 -0700 (PDT), hop

Post by hop
my creative muse has not been very helpful lately, but here is 1 more
effort
how many have you known the pain of loss and grief? the emptiness of a
vacuum, where one finds no relief? every day i see every cheering
happy fool for such i'm pathetic, merely a broken tool sleep eludes me
hard, it doesnt even try its absence makes me want to perish, even cry
my pants reek of feces, urine and other things laundry is no concern
when my depression sings
i hope u like it

what kind of of loser writes poems like this ?
telling the whole world that his own life is amiss...
if it had the guts to take its own advice,
it would run to its kitchen and fall on a knife...
but wait... there is no backbone in a jellyfish,
only babbling on and on encouraging someone else's death wish...
its poems give no good advice at all,
being full of bitterness, deceit and gall...

Shut the fuck up, harry dick

[%]

Post by Ishtar

Post by harry
On Mon, 2 Apr 2012 18:42:06 -0700 (PDT), hop

Post by hop
my creative muse has not been very helpful lately, but here is 1
more effort
how many have you known the pain of loss and grief? the emptiness
of a vacuum, where one finds no relief? every day i see every
cheering happy fool for such i'm pathetic, merely a broken tool
sleep eludes me hard, it doesnt even try its absence makes me want
to perish, even cry my pants reek of feces, urine and other things
laundry is no concern when my depression sings
i hope u like it

what kind of of loser writes poems like this ?
telling the whole world that his own life is amiss...
if it had the guts to take its own advice,
it would run to its kitchen and fall on a knife...
but wait... there is no backbone in a jellyfish,
only babbling on and on encouraging someone else's death wish...
its poems give no good advice at all,
being full of bitterness, deceit and gall...

Shut the fuck up, harry dick

you talk to harry dicks ,
you talk to harry dicks ,
na nu na nu na na

[hop]

here are 2 more, thank you for your appreciation:

some days you realize that life has lost its worth

that every day was wasted ever since your birth

there is not enough fame, fortune or even luck

to disprove the truth that our existences suck

you lie weeping on the ground, your heart clenched like a fist,

youd like to shoot yourself, turn your head into red mist.


poem no. 2:


if only i could leave this world i never liked,

one where all my hopes, my dreams were cruelly spiked

for me there was no love, only scorn and dread,

only hate-filled foes who coldly wished me dead.

i grew into a role i never wanted, one i never sought:

that of a loser at all trades, a 4th-rate drip of snot.

now at the very end, i can only look back and weep,

swallow 50 seconals and wait for eternal sleep.

[hop]

my gratitude to those who, unlike harry, understand pain