Screaming whispers
giggling howls
first the questioning thoughts
then instant ignorant despise
these are the objects that build
the torment
of my cold world
unassuming sly side-glances
Unmoving stares haunt my wake
do they think me as stupid?
do they believe in my ignorance?!
Hypocritical gather of crippled mice
at least to me they are
but despite the rage that secretly burns
control is limited
a question? what fuels this rage?
an indescribable feeling of want
wanting
wanting
wanting something not tangible
something of a passion
a fantasy, a dream
Never the less
they'll rue my name
and rotting, merciless karma will suddenly appear
maybe not by the wraith of my hand
but rue nonetheless
so I send my ravens of sorrow
vulterous ravens of my somber mind
to obliterate the defenseless mice
faces built from pure sadness
my soulless ravens dispatch them all
greedily picking the next kill
of thousands
someday, maybe
the weight of these ravens will be lifted
and my deserved sympathy will heal my demented memory
but until then
I will use these ravens
for my selfish destruction
laughing in my
eccentric Schadenfreude
until then
someday,

murder of ravens
in my cold
cold world