drunken poems

I'm Sick

Abused,
Confused,
Walked all over by your dirty shoes.
It's to late,
As you regurgitate your hate,
I choose to seal my fate,
But it's all to much, I'll die at this rate,
For the love of no god please set me straight.
I am,
Ignored, but I cant say why,
Tried to find an answer, all i found was this cord,
Maybe tie it to the pipe by the window and someday jump when I'm bored.
But wouldn't I die?
Ya, but I'd die on the fly, ha.
All I know is at least before I died they'd say that I soared!
An that's probably the closest to heaven that I'd ever be.
because you see, I'm a non believer, your god's condemned me.
And only It's death will set my soul free.

That's right, a nonbeliever,
violent, belligerent, and far to eager to become the receiver,
The catalyst, to spark the spread of the nonbeliever.
It will spread like a plague, and I am the start.
I am the Fever!

-The Fever

Author's Notes/Comments: 

this is pretty much one of the first few poems I have ever written drunk, and when I say drunk I mean REALLY shit faced...

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