Higher PowerMature

"Good Christians" spit in the eyes of "undesirables" while

Higher Power pisses down upon us, and stained glass fills

With the blood that was shed in society's name, while this sad

Age shuns the bloodshedders, and sticks daggers in my ribs 'cause

Everyone wants their pound of flesh, and they all need to leech from

This pathetic creature; the gutter floods with crimson.

You're all so clean, yet you still have dirt in your eyes.


My name is the filth beneath your talons and Louboutins

But one day I'll be real again, if this recoil hits me hard

Enough, and the gleam from the barrel stuns me into your

State of blind faith and sheep mentallity; your shepherd is

Bad jounalism.


The lamb of god had his throat slit long ago

But I only have one shell left in the chamber, and

Nothing in my heart, so please don't move and I

Won't fuck this up.




The End

8 comments about this poem Feed