hypocrites

Fractured Fault Lines

Folder: 
On Life and Living

 

Do you hear the echoing, shattering sounds 

Of shards of your broken, jagged glass,

As you hurl your misguided judgment stones 

Cruelly, and blindly, in my direction

From within' your empty-of-life, 

Fracted and fragmented, houses of glass?

 

Or is that more the constant rattling 

Of so many broken and buried bones 

Coming from your clandestine closets?

Practice Makes Perfect

If practice makes perfect

Then I guess you're a perfect bitch

And you must be a perfect dick

And you a perfect piece of shit

Because you practice it everyday

With the way you behave

 

Don't tell me the way it is

You never practice what you preach

You point out my many flaws

But refuse to see your own

 

You say to do this and do that

But then you take a fucking nap

What the fuck is up with that

You can go fuck yourself

 

Why do you always criticize

Go to hell and leave me alone

I'm the only one I need to please

And I'll do that by being me

 

When you're burning in hell

And you look up and see me

Going into the gates of heaven

Remember how I warned you

Stop practicing being a hypocrite

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This goes out to my grandpa for preaching to me then not doing whatever it was himself.

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Temporily Caged

Trapped in here, your chains are
Wrapped around me, and I can't even
Breathe, you're choking me, you think that I'm
Weak because I won't say the words out loud. I know you'd
Hate me if I told The Truth to you, but now I'm not
Afraid because I'm stepping out, I'm gonna
Escape the looks: Hate, Pain, even Trust. I know you
Love me in your own way, but it's not
Enough to make me stay this way, because it's
Rough when all I am is nothing but a
Lie. I can't keep being fake, I'm nothing but a hypocrite and I'd rather
Die than spend my life in a cage.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

So this is the first poem that I've ever made public in any way, so yeah, I have no fingernails left, which is probably a tiny bit melodramatic (and disgusting) but whatever.

This poem is about being trapped inside of an image that other people have made for you (in my case, parents) and well as much as I loathe the idea of becoming one of those people that are constantly asking people to comment on their stuff I really would appreciate feedback.

Oh yeah and my punctuation and sentence structure is horrendous but I really couldn't care less. Ciao

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