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Parents
written by AthiestAnarchist12:16 AM 1/6/05I want to move on and out
Without any doubt
I'm sick of all the comotion...the fights
I wish I could knock out all my lights
I'm sick of the way you speak
Everytime you yell, I get a little tweak
I hate the way we are living
I'm the burden that just keeps giving
I'm the salt on the open wound
I will bring us to our doom
You probably hate me for who I am
Believe me, I do what I can
Stop all the fighting
Stop all the gliding
I hate it that you blame me for the pressure
I hate it that I am the lesser
Fuck it...I don't care any more
Count me dead, laying on the floor
I'll be away from all the problems and the trouble I seem to cause
Oh well, it's your loss... |
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Author's footnotes and comments on this Poem:
My parents are fighting about my dad's fucking job...I'm just sick of it.
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