I wrote a bunch of poems. Here is one of them:
Humanity is on it’s last legs
Supported by the skill of
Traumatized 14 year olds
And the dreams of dying old men.
Psychologically broken, sexually frustrated
Our brave pilots fight against
Other children, trying to free their father
From a crucifix in the basement.
Meanwhile, our fathers reject their sons
Mothers beg their daughters
To die with them.
Buildings slide into slots underground
To hide from the horrors
The hundreds of gallons of blood
The children that fight
In biological behemoths
Cyborganic freaks of nature
Demons harnessed with armour
Bolted into their flesh.
The oceans are red, lifeless
Through this chaotic hell and suffering
Humanity is united
The final decision we all must take
Is to continue on
To hide our tears with cold masks.
And heal our wounds in clinical beds
In understaffed hospitals
There’s my sister,
she was hurt after the tower came crashing down
We sing for sweet death to come,
The final evolution of humanity is at hand
In the hands of a boy
Born from the apocalypse
And entombed in the womb
Of his mother.
And it all keeps tumbling down.
Bragallot wrote:Just ask Silverdream. He decides what's true and right, and what someone said or meant at some point, even if they didn't. Clearly he is the most suitable person for fixing this mess.
Bluefog wrote:I mean, I could just throw my feces at you and my feelings would be conveyed adequately.