Piss

I little poem about the comparison of peeing and society.

Piss

 

Last night he wet his bed

 

Because of all the fear hidden in his head

 

He laid his raw filth on these sheets

 

This hot liquid that comes out of him so freely

 

Like it has its own mentality

 

Staining the soft cotton fabric until it was wet with despair

 

The stench was unforgettable and it was such a wretched waste

 

He was in shock from what has happened so he lay in this mess unable to move

 

Eyes wide, muscles tense, hands sprawled across the bed begging for help put his lips can not seem to arrange the words to ask

 

So, he laid there in this stain in complete distain with the pain

of all his shame leaking through his clothes

 

He is fully exposed and has no way to cover himself

 

Last night he wet his bed

 

The same way society has done to him

 

Sullied by the filth made in the worlds body

 

A culmination of all the corruption and hate

 

Packed down with so much pressure there is only one way to

escape

 

Onto you and onto him

 

Those people that have been nothing more than comfort for the

burdens of the world

 

Yet they have the audacity to piss on us without a single thought

 

And it will rip away what was once soft

 

Pull away a layer of our cotton and leave only something rough

 

Something that will no longer be touched

 

And without a single dread they bundle us up and through us away, ready to piss on the next sheet

 

Last night society pissed on us

 

It exposed its raw filth

 

And left us to absorb the excretion it has created