The poor’s prison
couldn’t hold us we have no value
binned in the sin bin
the void is massive and not narrow
unless you go to Eaton or Harrow
you will never get to be an MP
and make a change to the system or stats
Life was made for fat cats and bankers
don’t worry I can just about afford the bus you wankers
we live in a free country or are we free but dumb
Is there any real freedom?
in the rat race chase for digital money
if we make a loss, print some more or take out a loan
quantitative easing splurge your money on wanton distractions
Tv,computers, phones, the system works in subtraction
take away all your time so you cannot rebel
Welcome to hell and the shell of system
we are organised enough to make a change?
life is too hard to rearrange?
When we work in our family packs
like dogs or other animals
human beings working for own destruction
the planet is being destroyed by plastic and green house gases
while we too distracted by prosthetic tits and asses
getting them done or seeing them on show
sex opium it’s the new scent
no wonder capitalism is spent.
Written in creative writing class.
It’s 3 am and I still can’t sleep,
When I think of the bullies at school I weep.
In creeps the hunger to cut and purge again,
The cut of the knife hurts me, though it focuses the brain.
Droplets of blood drip onto the floor
Dull and red, one blood stain more.
In my heart loneliness slowly kills
Making me feel isolated and numbing my will.
My parents are caught in their own private war,
Unaware of what’s happening behind my bedroom door.
My parents are furious at my falling marks at school,
However they haven’t noticed the cuts on my arms at all.
I am left in this house which feels unsafe and unlike a home.
I panic when I am left to my own devices all alone.
My breaths come fast, uneven and I feel sick,
Sometimes I can’t breathe at all, my heart races too quick.
When I was at primary school I had good friends.
These days I feel let down, they’ve turned out to be dead ends.
It’s a shame they all left me and shot through,
now bullies flock around like vultures picking at all I say and do.
Last Tuesday I bunked school and spent it walking around town
people stared at me, making me feel even more down.
I was feeling as if no one understood
So I went to a river near a wood.
I made for my house when it was time to go home,
but the school had already contacted my Mum by phone
My furious Dad threatened me with grounding.
I said “I don’t care! I like my own surroundings!”
The truth is I don’t want to feel anything anymore,
So I pick up the knife to cut myself some more…