Photo by Chris Mok || @cr.mok on Unsplash

Better off Without Me

I feel like the world is better
off without me,
Like my very birth was a
complete tragedy.

I feel like I live in a maze,
from which I cannot
escape,
And if they open my brain,
all they will find is pain.

And pity is a liquor that my
stomach cannot handle,
While I’m throwing up from
drinking one glass of
attention.

So have no mercy on my
soul, but roll my casket
open.
And let my corpse just fall
on the dirt, for every word
I’ve spoken.

Please laugh until you can’t
because this fool is finally
gone.
Father, the world deserves
better, than your second
son.
Mother should have
aborted me while I was still
in her stomach,
The very thought that I
made it this long, just
makes me want to vomit.

And sound the trumpets my
only love for your misery is
gone.
The one man that kept you
as a slave, just sung his
final song.

So smile on darling let me
see that beautiful face from
the hell where now I’m in.
You deserve only Heaven
and light, and not my dark
side that only fights like a
grinch.

No tears to swallow, inside
I’m hallow,
And numb the rope
I’m watching.
The old stole beneath my
feet,
while I feel my throat is
choking.

In my final moments I think
of this,
Can’t call it legacy.
Because the great men are
saving the world, and are
not losers like me.

Take this letter, as my last
will, and while I’m dead,
don’t shout me.
It doesn’t matter if I lived,
now I’m going out by
myself proudly.

And let the people know, if I
had more time maybe I
would’ve amounted
something.
But life is short, just like this
rope, and I think the world
is better off without me.

A Cry for Help

I feel a cry for help
gathering in my throat,
We die a second time,
when we tell ourselves no.

I’m finally numb in my mind,
and I’m blind,
My tears fall like the rain
from the sky, I am chained
inside.

The human is a tool in the
hands of this money
machinery,
We get replaced like wool,
when we hit seniority.

Suppress the revolution,
And kill the attributions.
Climb on our necks,
And steal all the cash.

Become kings of the world,
The revolution can wait.
Father’s deceiving their
votes,
Inquisition in religion’s
name.

The infants body for
breakfast,
The blood of soul for lunch,
Immortal and not ancient,
I’m not a poet, but I’m
harsh.

Sad but true,
People working for a wage,
The revolution can wait,
Sell yourself for a spoon.

Slaves building cities,
Jewels for the richest,
Power is a toy for lords,
But it’s hell for the poor.

I’m not talking to Albanians
only,
But to people made of flesh
and bone.
I’m talking about these
murderers,
On top of every town.

Seven continents, five
oceans,
In the hands of a few
hundreds.
Our planet, Earth the
poorest,
In the hands of these
Nazis.

Rise oh man kind,
Rise oh European,
Grab stones oh Asian,
And March oh African

America come together,
Australia burn the weather,
Antarctica melt and rise the
water levels,
To send to hell these rulers.

These rapist gentlemen,
And whore ladies wearing
silk,
That spend all day in vain,
And take more each.

This world has two kinds of
people,
A killer and a victim.
It’s survival of the fittest,
A millennium without
eating.

The revolution awaits no
strength,
And this is not a call for
war.
It is a cry for help,
Cause our power they
stole.

Its a sobbing,
A fall on my knees
for good.
Its a begging, humbling,
To have mercy
for ourselves like we should.

Cause we’re suffering to
every extent,
And we still keep working
for them.
Then we participate in
massacres,
Like we hate our damn
selves.

We must make a
revolution,
In order for them to work
with us.
And to share in distribution,
Every bite for every mouth.

And I hope with all my
heart,
The whole world gets the
message I send.
Before my name getting old
to start, The cry for help to come to
an end.