I am leaving behind an original copyrighted poem of mine. You can judge for yourself the quality I will bring. I am a published poet. I have recently joined freelancer. I work for many institutes and websites. I want to make a passive income.
The Last Call out
The demon inside haunts me still,
The pain lurks, knifing me ill,
A decade of murder? Oh I have lived,
A call my friend, this is my last call out still!!
Negligence and abuse have been my aid,
Sometimes the hurt is worse than death.
A world, too soon to crucify me, with words,-
Yes words, as hard as steel.
Weird, get a life, you pig- yeah I’ve heard them all,
For voicing out the pain, that ever grows tall.
A decade of abuse, and more still,
A call my friend, this is my last call still.
They call it bipolar and lots of other shit,
Laziness hankering on, a brutal KO indeed.
The voice is drying, trickling out by bits,
For some sanity, oh yes I crave still.
Worthlessness, loneliness - yeah those are my daily words,
For a life of pain- it needs an end, soon.
Talk it out, you get back words,-
Words that fail to understand ,- galore of grief.
Trauma after trauma- immuned and still,
A decade of lost love, and I am ill.
A call my friend, this is my last call still.
The words fail to express the behemoth, the giant,-
That slowly bombs me, grenades inside.
Friends- a term, pails in existence,
For no one truly listens, hurling opinions like stones.
For all that pelting, the mind wears thin,
Destiny binding me in shackles,