deepundergroundpoetry.com

7 am

Eyes are heavy  
staring out over 7 am.  
I think of what it would be like  
to walk up there and strike  
repeatedly  
at her throat  
until she is nothing more  
than a coughing lump  
waiting to die.  
 
It all started  
when she chose what she has  
over decency and respect.  
It continued when she returned home,  
decided to continue the party  
and turned it up  
despite the pleading of my knuckles  
against the ceiling.  
 
The police found the doors  
to her flat open,  
they turned it down themselves.  
Then she returned  
and did it again.  
They can do nothing,  
they are as useless  
as the laws stopping me  
from offering my honest feedback.  
 
This world is full of sickness,  
not in disease,  
but in those truly representing  
the word 'cunt.'  
There's nothing more to say,  
there's next to nothing that can be done.  
 
I sit here in the early afternoon  
my heavy eyes flickering on and off  
as I imagine her laying at my feet  
twitching for the life  
she should be denied.
Written by CruelHandedWriter (Jamie Rhodes)
Published
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