deepundergroundpoetry.com

Midnight Nightmare

          
   
   
         
         
we're born into          
fiction          
with no          
book of lies          
and truth says          
its sorry    
   
 the myth's in your eyes          
   
will you still love-          
when the poetry          
dies?          
sold as fast-food          
containers          
(eat while you cry!)          
electric finger-tips          
once           
lit-up-a-room             
-feeling          
hard-rocks          
heavy-knocks          
long-blonde-locks          
         
         
now  
a catastrophic mess          
of nothing          
to play                  
and fiction          
is fiction          
but needs to have walked          
an uneasy path          
to come          
to a page               
never a muse          
or really short fuse          
it was pumping in veins          
of blood          
spilled          
through          
every-day          
use          
         
.          
         
was it an act of God(s)          
I don't know-          
it's hard to say!          
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
 
Written by RevolutionAL (Alistair Plint)
Published | Edited 12th Apr 2022
Author's Note
best read in a sort of slam / reading method I 'spose.
call it grandpa rap or some such thing lol.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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