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check this twisted poem.

seizer

New member
This poem was written by this young indian girl who was addicted to meth shortly before she died.

I AM METH


I destroy homes, I tear families apart,
I take your children, and that's just the start.

I'm more costly than diamonds, more precious than gold,
The sorrow I bring is a sight to behold.

If you need me, remember I'm easily found,
I live all around you - in schools and in town

I live with the rich, I live with the poor,
I live down the street, and maybe next door.

I'm made in a lab, but not like you think,
I can be made under the kitchen sink.

In your child's closet, and even in the woods,
If this scares you to death, well it certainly should.

I have many names, but there's one you know best,
I'm sure you've heard of me, my name is crystal meth.

My power is awesome, try me you'll see,
But if you do, you may never break free.

Just try me once and I might let you go,
But try me twice, and I'll own your soul.

When I possess you, you'll steal and you'll lie,
You do what you have to — just to get high.

The crimes you'll commit for my narcotic charms
Will be worth the pleasure you'll feel in your arms.

You'll lie to your mother, you'll steal from your dad,
When you see their tears, you should feel sad.

But you'll forget your morals and how you were raised,
I'll be your conscience, I'll teach you my ways.

I take kids from parents, and parents from kids,
I turn people from God, and separate friends.

I'll take everything from you, your looks and your pride,
I'll be with you always — right by your side.

You'll give up everything - your family, your home,
Your friends, your money, then you'll be alone.

I'll take and take, till you have nothing more to give,
When I'm finished with you, you'll be lucky to live.

If you try me be warned - this is no game,
If given the chance, I'll drive you insane.

I'll ravish your body, I'll control your mind,
I'll own you completely, your soul will be mine.

The nightmares I'll give you while lying in bed,
The voices you'll hear, from inside your head.

The sweats, the shakes, the visions you'll see,
I want you to know, these are all gifts from me.

But then it's too late, and you'll know in your heart,
That you are mine, and we shall not part.

You'll regret that you tried me, they always do,
But you came to me, not I to you.

You knew this would happen, many times you were told,
But you challenged my power, and chose to be bold.

You could have said no, and just walked away,
If you could live that day over, now what would you say?

I'll be your master, you will be my slave,
I'll even go with you, when you go to your grave.

Now that you have met me, what will you do?
Will you try me or not? It's all up to you.

I can bring you more misery than words can tell,
Come take my hand, let me lead you to hell.​
 
Check this one out: It's fuckin' freaky...anonymous author. I saw it on the internet.


I am a serial killer.

I plague upon those tortured thoughts you chose to hide.

This time I do the choosing.


I have the control.


…And only your blood can leave a stain.
For there is no conscience to scar.
No reality to warp beyond what is already twisted.

Why is it twisted, though?

It seems fine to me.

You have something I want.

I take it.

Sometimes it is your breath.

I squeeze.

You lose.

I don’t squeeze.

Your facial expression is good enough.

You can keep your soul, though.
I have no need for leftovers.


Let me show you what I see, though.

All my life, I’ve heard of the light that is man…

…The glory that is God.

Have I ever experienced it?
What do you think?



Have you experienced that glory that is MY experience?
The erotic nature of randomness…

Is that not really the truth of man?

I am a reaper…
…a predator…

Call me what you like.

In truth, I am a car accident.
A statistic in this vile taint of air we are exposed to.

I’m your cashier.
I’m your courier.
I’m your father…

-creator-
-priest-

I chose who lives and dies.
I chose who is saved.

I judge who is worthy
of the glory
and
who
is
not.

Just because my glory isn’t your glory…
…doesn’t make me a monster.

In the end, I’m more rather the beauty of a hurricane.

…The respect of a cobra.

…Something precious and not taken for granted.

I am a serial killer
and
I
control
my
destiny.

Can you say the same?
 
If you want to hear something really twisted try listening to Harry Secombes' greatest hits.
 
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