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Dead Letter To The World

by Soyala Amaya

Dear world,
I’m tired.
You hear it over and over,
The ‘bustle of humanity’,
The ‘roar of the city streets’,
The endless squawking of a billion children lost in the dark,
And sobbing for mommy,
Only mommy never comes.
And I’m tired of it.

I’m tired of the self-effacing morons who constantly conform
To the antithesis of nonconformity,
Unaware of the lies that spew from their holes.
I’m tired of the constantly discontent who soap-box on and on
About their problems and woes so loudly that one can’t think
For the mountain deep rabble that overflows from the sewers of their minds.
I’m sick of all the hypocrites who rage about sloth and injustice,
While not doing anything more than that;
Rage in their simmering cesspools
Deep within the poisonous lead cauldron of humanity.
And I’m sick of being one of them.

Yea, you heard me,
I’m one of them.
For all I know,
I may be the worst!
And I don’t care.
I recognize my inadequacies,
My inconsistencies,
Then I toss them out the window of oblivion
So they can spiral forever in my gravitational field
Of teenage drama and angst.

Angst, angst, piss, bitch, moan,
That’s all that’s left of me anymore.
And you know, I used to write because I wanted to.
I used to sit for hours in blissful concealment,
Pouring me into ink to print on paper
To bare before the judgmental eyes of others to read.
I used to search and search for that one word that fit me,
That one word that I could place in the sunlit snow of myself
So that I could be complete.

Now I have to work my mind to the bone
To put myself into the words that are already there.
We’ve changed places, switched roles,
The words are the ones who write me.
And why?
Because every other damn person wants me to!
Because I’m one of them,
One of the ones I created.
I'm a character in my own story,
Only I don’t know who’s writing these pages!

And guess what world!
Dear world,
Who has done me no wrong,
Who has sheltered, and fed, and given me all I could ever need,
Do you want to know something?
I hate living on you.
You with your polluted soul,
Acidic water, poisonous air, and human infested skin,
You disgust me!
You make me sick.
And you know what else?

I could stand you, yay, even love you,
If it weren’t for the plague,
The terrible infection of humanity on your flesh.
If it weren’t for the people,
The inhuman humans,
I could stand you world.

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123 Reviews

Points: 1590
Reviews: 123

Sat Apr 19, 2008 11:55 pm
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kittykat says...

Why is everyone barfing? I liked it, I don't know why but I did. I thought it was good. ^^

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Points: 1040
Reviews: 32

Sat Apr 19, 2008 11:30 pm
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*barfs in trash can*

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253 Reviews

Points: 890
Reviews: 253

Thu Apr 17, 2008 6:14 pm
CK Lynn says...

I kind of dropped off after two verses. Really, this is more rant than poem, in my opinion. It would help if there was more of a poemy-feel (does that make any sense?) Where as this feels like prose in poem form.

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Points: 890
Reviews: 8

Sun Jan 23, 2005 5:00 pm
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VariousUndine wrote a review...

You really do seem very tired. But then I got tired. After the first stanza I just got really, you know. Tired. This is a rant, not a poem. You use too many unnecessary words. I'd list them but there's too many, so yeah. 'Inhuman humans'? Lyrical in a silly sense, but mostly confusing. I don't connect with you at all on this poem. It just sounds like self-lamentation, and nobody hears 'woe is me' anymore. This poem means nothing but 'blahblahblah'. You deface the beraters of the world and so you deface yourself and it's just annoying. Sorry. I really liked the first stanza though.

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321 Reviews

Points: 890
Reviews: 321

Sat Jan 22, 2005 6:49 am
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Liz wrote a review...

I liked the casual tone of the poem.

Angst, angst, piss, bitch, moan,

Yeah, that was kind of...I don't know, I didn't like it.
Rage in their simmering cesspools
Deep within the poisonous lead cauldron of humanity.
And I’m sick of being one of them.

Good stuff. It kind of became mundane after that, but that was a great line. About the grapic comment.... :?:
Anyway, pretty good, it kind of rambled on a bit but you had some good lines in here.

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665 Reviews

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Reviews: 665

Wed Jan 19, 2005 5:07 pm
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Chevy wrote a review...

Angst, angst, piss, bitch, moan,

Sounds like a line in someone wannabe horror movie that comes on Saturday night on cable somewhere. But seriously. That was bad.
Sorry to say...but, I totally agree with EBM and Brad.

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78 Reviews

Points: 890
Reviews: 78

Wed Jan 19, 2005 5:01 pm
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Soyala Amaya says...

What's graphic? I'm really confused. I didn't kill anyone, there's no guts or anything, where's the graphic to make you hurl? And incandesence, is that a hurl because its bad or what? It does me no good if I can't understand what the problem is!

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418 Reviews

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Reviews: 418

Tue Jan 18, 2005 3:31 am
electricbluemonkey wrote a review...

*Joins Incandescence*

Oh...jeez...although that was a really good poem, about halfway anyway...but a little too graphic don't you think?

I liked your style, by the way.

Wow, it was a really good poem, apart from the graphic part, I really felt your feelings. I could really feel your pain, and the description was really good. I loved it.

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915 Reviews

Points: 890
Reviews: 915

Tue Jan 18, 2005 3:07 am
Incandescence says...

:wretches in nearby trash can:

"Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood."
— George Orwell, 1984