The End.

I was going over and over in my head, why exactly i wanted to start up one of these blog mothers, and how would i start it out? Do people really need to 'hear' (well, 'read'- but you get the idea) what I have to say? I guess we'll see...

It came to a tie between a random vulgarity, of which I am no stranger to, or an old poem i wrote, aptly titled "The End". Now, I promise you i have no intention of writing an onslaught of poetry, because we all have our limits, and I'm in no mood to see yours. However, i enjoy writing very much and I'm fairly certain i don't completely suck.

So, to kick things off:

...fuck.

And now, The End:

secrets are brittle, on the lips of the lepers,
and love does little more, than dismantle the soul.
for those who cry, for swords of cyanide,
i offer you: the end.

it's a work of words, all jumbled and skewed,
the pictures too small, and the point rarely viewed.
it will drive your mind, to fears and fault,
the guilt of failure, misery... the lot.
and when the world looks back, on a barely dear friend,
all they'll ever see, is: the end.

it's bound with the tears, of the hungry and ill,
clawing for cures, with no sight of good will.
so i sit them back, and i sing them song,
and the glue of the starved, comes trickling along.
an unloved tribe, in a world unknown,
confused and let down, by every still stone.
one man's livelihood, thousands dead,
my life's work: the end.

everyone thinks back, at one time or another,
of every failed love, dark hurts, and drunk mothers.
and my friend it's much easier, than you think,
to drink it away, and never go through...
but I've seen to many failures, and it breaks my heart,
so many people who gave life, one more shot.
so i wrote a book, of stories and tales,
of demented hymns, and deranged damsels.
at the end of their rope, their wits, their minds,
all here here to help you find: your end.

the end

There, that wasn't so bad, was it?
This is something I've honestly wanted to do for sometime now... but never really got around to do it. I'm relatively unknown, and I barely know anyone who even reads anymore, unless it's 160 characters or less. But this is mostly for me, and if you can find enjoyment out of it, well... that's just the icing on the shit.

♫ I can't wait ♪