*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1581519-Sometimes
by Found
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Psychology · #1581519
I feel sick.
There is no more room for agreements
There is no more room to cater to their side of the story
I am no longer conforming to them
I am no longer societys mindless sex slave
I am not their "bitch" or whatever they may call it
I will reassemble what I was
I will personally reset the world
There is no more room for agreements
I have catered to them enough
No more room for disagreements
I have run out of patience
I filled the edless abyss
I have done the impossible
I am sick of the ignorance
I am sick of the malcompliance
I am sick of the indecisiveness
I am sick of the regression
I am sick of the digressions
I am sick of the sociality
I am sick of society
And I hope society is sick of me
May they indulge into their mindless mental masturbation
While I wait for them to change.
© Copyright 2009 Found (rewolucje at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1581519-Sometimes