Rage
Geschrieben von Pashynn F.
Vorwort
To all the broken people, angry and frustrated. Sick of the world, the pain. The people who hurt you, break you. You are not alone, there are so many of us. And we believe in you, all broken people believe in you.
I could scream for hours,
I could scream for days,
Seventeen years of fucked up hurt,
Seventeen years of rage.
I’m fucking sick of all the jerks,
All the assholes in my life,
Where there’s nothing I can do,
They control the world I live.
Fuck them, I hate them,
Go and burn in hell,
I am going to live my life,
And be happy and well.
It wouldn’t be so bad,
But it happens again and again,
Every day, week, month, year,
A never-ending sick game.
And they perfectly know the art,
Of making me come back,
Cunning words about trying harder,
Lies, stabbed in the back.
Total control over everything,
In their F-ed up little kingdom,
That’s all they ever want,
At the price of happiness and freedom.
NOBODY controls me,
No little fucked up human,
The only one who can say “jump”,
Is God up in his kingdom.
Freedom, so sweet, precious, rare,
I love for the taste of freedom,
Every couple months, here and there,
Snatched, held tight, a moment in Rome.
They think they can walk all over me,
Kick, stab, and a thousand lies,
But I am still here!
Finding happiness, and alive.
I grow harder, and stronger,
Every time you hurt me,
My armour gets thicker,
My sword sharp and keen.
So I wait, long and patient,
You are not so tough,
One day, I will defeat you,
I will get strong enough.
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