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The Hulk (before H.S.) Cant let it out
The colors the words
forget what they said they heard
One day discoever is deranged
Finally a will to move to change
Your life is only a picture a frame
But too late
Its nothing now
Too routed inside- your shallow, your tame
Doesnt matter because its silent its loud
Handicapped, and its crippled, its maimed
Too tired to be strong, to be sane
too tired to fight the wave, the pain
drown in the absence of a purpose, a game
logic you presented here in this poem is rich and the way you done is also impressive... love it verrrry much