There's a person, a kind-eyed person
Who thinks I'm haunted, who thinks I'm sad
He doesn't know that I don't belong in this life
He doesn't know that I'm just myself
There's a person, a kind-eyed person
Who thinks his kindness will make him great
But he doesn't know of the exploitation
He doesn't know of the searing hate
The divine feminine within my soul
Calls for blood and death untold
I'm a coward, I'm not bold
I want to be in the apocalypse
I want mountains made of bones
The bones of people who seek their wealth
I want the light of an angler fish
I want the love of hate
So why am I here?
Why am I this?
Why are my obsessive thoughts such an inescapable abyss?
I don't hope for a world that's better than this
I don't even know what that world would look like
The powers that be of this society they say I'm not normal, a rarity
It depends on how you define normality
I'm literally wasting my opportunities
I'm in love with death, I'm in love with retribution
And more than that, I'm in love with revolution
I'm in love with the idea that those of us who are poor
Will rise up and set their abusers aflame
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If you like this piece check out my Mastodon my account is [email protected] and I post about human rights, social justice, and the environment.114Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡftBgMWCEeg
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