Whine Whine Whine

The title says it all. Blargh. I'm pretty tired from writing so many despriptions. G'night to anyone who's reading this, I'll post the remaining three-quarters of my poems tomorrow.

Whine Whine Whine

 

Well, I know I'm going down

Turning clown frowns upside down

I won't listen to my mom

I'll still be with you when you're gone

Not that I want you to die

Quite the opposite,

I want you to bury me

Although it would break

What is left of your self-worth

I can't bear to see you cry

In the ground we are all equals

Or so those from the 1500's would say

But it's sort of like a plague

I can't contain it

and it seeps and corrodes

My mind and body

And that's when I lash out

For no adequately explained

Reasons, which is why I'm colourblind

to the bright I see when I open

a window, so again it's sort of like

A pet rat that I don't want

but can never bare to part with

Because I'd have nothing left

to complain about, at least

Until I make some more problems

For myself and those unfortunate

 Enough to have risked not

Being unpartial to me

Although I'm quite partial to

the right to remain and complain

Although I can't mantain

Anything on my own

A hell to call my own?

But that was done

In another poem

Quite literally I may add

I don't have anything left to say

So I might as well keep talking

Because I felt just the same way at the beginning