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Expressing Inner Thoughts

Poetry is turning out to be a very cathartic medium, I should do this more often.

Set the Mood

expressing-inner-thoughts

What is it like,

To be the gun pressed against my head?

Will I pull the trigger,

Do I want to be dead?


I loaded the conversation in like ammunition,

The chamber is now locked and loaded.

All I need to do is walk away,

But I want to pop your ego so bloated.


I cannot hit you in the face,

You hide behind the screen so frail.

Bravery comes easy when you hide,

And the wind of your lies helps me sail.


Perhaps I’ll point this gun at you,

Plant these words into your chest.

Maybe I’ll keep hiding my true feelings,

Because you cannot handle zest.


Maybe point the gun up at God,

We all know he is a piece of work.

Doesn’t matter because he doesn’t exist,

If he does then duties have been shirked.


Pointing the barrel where it belongs,

Pointing it at the entire world.

Looking at the self can be so hard,

Especially as the self unfurls.


So I’ll end this silly poem strong,

Correct your views as they’re oh so wrong.

Hold your breath it won’t be long,

‘Til mourners sing you a woeful song.

Moving On

I always like to add social commentary to my poetry, but this one is really just a free-flowing expression of ongoing thoughts. If I had to apply a meaning to this, I suppose I am upset that others feel so free to express themselves despite the consequences it could have for others, while I moderate my every word so as to try and appease their triggers. Today is a bad day, people are bad people, and I'm basking in it all right now.

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