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I Hear Voices and more poems I wrote


Last Living Souls

I hear voices inside my head,
Yelling and fighting I wish I were dead,
I feel pain inside my soul,
Cutting me, killing me, taking control.
I see death all around,
So many people hit the ground,
I cut my wrists and watch them bleed,
An angry child for all to see;
I take pills to stop the pain,
But the voices start up again,
So I take pills to stop them too,
And then I die alone and blue,
All because I listened to you.


Do you feel love,
cuz I do not.
Do you have fun,
cuz I do not.
Do you have some one who wants you alive,
cuz I do not.
But…. there are some things I can do.

I can feel pain,
I can feel hate,
I can feel the need to never wake,
I can cut myself and laugh out loud,
I can kill a man and feel proud.

These are some things that I can do,
None of which matter to you.
And you may hate me, but that’s OK,
cuz you do not matter any way.
But... look me in the eyes and tell me if you
Can see the hate Ii feel for you.

And if you do, please run,
cuz then it just won't be fun
to cut you open and watch you die,
with that look that asks me why.
That gives me a reason to ask the question and answer it.

Do you feel that?
I do not.


How does it feel,
to kick me in the face,
How does it feel,
to beat me into place,
How does it feel,
to make me feel like I’m dead?

Do you feel good,
Do you get off,
Do you feel happy,
Do you like yourself?

Or do you have this feeling of power,
when you bash me on the concrete?
Well, what is it,
What’s wrong?

I know what’s wrong, you’re scared,
You are arn't you?
You’re scared because you’re tied to a chair,
In nothing but your underwear,
With a gun in your mouth,
and blood on your chest.
But don't worry, I’m not going to kill you... mmmm... sick,
Damn that feels good.


Do you like the things I say,
Do you think that I’m funny,
Do you like the way I look?
Do you like that stupid book?

Or are you just like me,
afraid of what you might see,
when the whole world falls asleep?

Death and pain,
corruption and gain,
Life and suffering,
like an addicting strain,
Imposed on your mind to make you see.
Only what they want you to see.
A meaningless thought,
An undetermined knot,
made to make us only be,
exactly what they want us to be.

A fight in the street,
the blood on the wall,
made to make the simple mind call,
then shout out, WHY!!!
Is this world such a hateful place,
Why are we such a destructive race,
bent on killing one another?
Made to conform under pressure,
Made you fall victim to,
The random shit that people do.

So I ask you again and please don’t lie,
Do you feel that thing deep inside,
begging you just to try?
A world outside the box they built,
just to mold your mind.
Do you want to find yourself,
amid this world if nothing else?
Then follow me and I will show,
You a world where anything goes.


I sit on a wall across from a place,
A place I’ve loved for so many days.
I look to the sky then to the ground and listen to familiar sounds,
Like the birds in the trees and cars passing by.
Then I lie on my back and ask myself why.
Why do you hate what you love so much?
Why can’t you stand to be part of its touch?
Why does it make you want to die?
But at the same time make you want to cry,
Cry because it’s time to go home,
And sit in your room all alone,
And laugh to yourself about the day and all the stupid games you’ve played.
I wonder this for quite awhile and find myself almost needing--
Needing this place that I call home.
Needing the smell of the chalk filled rooms,
Needing its embrace to make me whole,
Needing its chaos to let me know,
Let me know who I am.
So that I go home a greater man,
One not afraid to meet the day.
Head-on at first to pave the way then slower each and every day.
Now I sit on my wall feeling myself start to fall,
Falling because I feel so lost.
So tired and so out of touch because I know what happens now.
This place I love I must leave,
Letting myself finally see.
No matter how much you hate this place, you always take a little piece,
So when you go home all alone and sit inside your darkened room,
You have something to make you laugh or cry.
But either way the feelings are the same,
You hate the end—the end in every way.

I hope you enjoy my poems. :p


Banned - What an Asshat!
they feel like songs to me, except the meter is out on some lines, so i guess they aren't..
good shit, i'd prefer to hear them screamed than read them though.. :)