a feeble atte
mpt at angst poetry.
hen
by hennife
r.
n g s t
my soul is like a
jungle full of bad
things.
under a thick moss of discontentment,
lies
my underlying torment.
thrusting u
p from it, are trees of hate.
spikes, challenging the sky.
this font
running through my jungle are m
any little
sucks, but
cavemen.
it was easy why are they
in the jungle?
to draw. i dont know.
but they symbolize my.. cavemanity.
they breakdance, the way my heart
breakdances in devastation
every time i stub my toe.
they do that twirly-breakdance move
n o t e f r o m h e n n i f e r w
hen theyre really really mad.
like i do, when my mom tries to make me
i just want to make sure that every- clean
my room or something.
one recognizes that, as usual, im
being completely non-serious. oh, woe
is me.
LAZARUS - WHERE ANGST IS 3L33T, B4YB33!
!@!!!!!!!!!!!!!@@@