Young Writers Society

you like to hide behind curtains of 

greasy spilt end hairs

and watch the world 

through a filtered mask

so nobody can laugh at your bruised face,

or slash you with hand-shielded giggles

from young girls 

with silly plaits and ribbons



sunlight can't penetrate 

so hate breeds freely 

and spreads an unstoppable virus

to the depths of your toes 

and tips of your crooked, claw-like fingers

which you devoured his eyes with

and left him unable to cry

and he forgot to die

or even send you roses

on february the fucking fourteenth



one unforgettable day

the winds of truth will arise

and we'll see your true eyes

stained with the souls

of buried relationships

and shining with sabres

sharp shimmering sabres

that slice hearts in two

kill everyone who comes within two feet 

of your sweet 

precious complexion.



but even the freezing cold ice

of late winter can't chill 

your piercing glances 

or late night trances

and psychedelic dances

peace and love, far out

said the poisonous acid

but this ain't the swinging sixties

and you ain't the fucking queen

but with the purple robes

and glimmering jewels

you think you can be

or at least, think you should be



so boys on muddy knees

queue round the corner

hold out circular treasures

they bought from market

and dream of being princes

riding strong irish geldings

but all you want from them

is satisfaction and adoration

exultation and glorification

but never any justification



as if your miniscule

gravitional pull 

could really force the globe

to spin round you



you do know that

everyone hates autocracy

and people eat puppies

just like you told them

as their heart stopped beating

i don't care

about crowns and money

i just want to see 

your hands turn bloody again

when one of your victims

spontaneously combusts

in your pathetic weak arms