Voices

Many in our society are written off as criminals and headed for nothing but prison or an early death from birth. So I offer you the inner workings of the mind of the forsaken…

The Voice of Rage

I’ve got a battle axe in my hand and not afraid to use it.

Don’t mean to take away from gangster music but...

Satan made me do it.

My anger, hatred, and rage today is just fluid.

Don’t think I’m crazy, or mind hazy, my vision’s lucid.

My disdain for the humane and under aged is ruthless.

Society keeps wiring me the change I need to prove it.

The mainframe’s computed me no way or future tense.

I’m bored with being abhorred off written, forward hence.

Animalistic is the cannibalistic instinct I’m viewed with.

A babbling misfit going ballistic till I realistically lose it.

The gross exaggeration I’m capable of reformation is useless,

So I wield my axe from across my back attacking...

Who’s next?

The Voice of Reason

My dead end birth has hurt me more than it’s hurt the earth,

To be viewed in the eyes and despised as some sort of curse,

Thanking the lord for my prized guise and I ignore the church,

Preachers preaching from Bentleys can’t sell me any...

enormous worth.

My mind bends and breaks till it hurts so I can make it work.

Just as the caged bird sings, I too can make my encasing chirp

Instead of rage at a young age I learned to decorate my lurch,

With thoughts of success, showing at best, I could enable perk.

It’s more than easy to fall into the fable of a strangled jerk,

Chocked off from life so I kill and maim cause I aim to hurt.

Instead I rise suited with prudish tie and brand famous shirt.

I support my cause to bring out my naysayers’ ire and irk,

And do my best to bring worth through my girth which,

will deny me dearth

The boss of myself I admire my work and resist my urge,

to fire the earth.

The Voice of Reflection

I sit in my cell now, earth’s hell without fire breathing.

I shed a tear as no one cares or sees my inner bleeding.

I consented to my label and did my soul a treason.

A light went off in my head but I ignored the beacon.

Seeking, searching I find now I had a choice preceding,

Society and my environment kept me from inner reading.

Pleading pleas while my mind was more than fleeting.

Needing breathing apparatus as the sentence beats me,

Beating, eating away at my tattered self completely.

Feeling, conceding to death encased in a place,

beneath me.

Conceiving, conceiting is nothing I’m able to speak on.

Mangling, dangling my self from a shoelace I choked on.

Retching, breathing depleting my makers meeting,

scheduled this season.

Hanging, aiming to silence rage and...

listen to reason