Tuesday, January 29, 2008

poetry for the wicked

filling ears with your twisted lies
going low so they'll sympathize
gaining none but feeling better
living life as a fire setter

must be nice to be that selfish
trashing friends to gain a half inch
but you'll end up bitter and stranded lonely
banking wrath and pride and envy

weakness plagues your wicked souls
patience... the strength you'll never own
it can't be bought or stealthily stolen
an inheritance gifted upon the chosen

poor little you and your empty heads
it's the nasty consequence of playing revenge
misery loves company, but it won't be me
go on now, your next victim's waiting.

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