Age/Gender: 18, Male
Location: U.S.A., Indiana
Job: Student
Insanity is but a higher state of awareness. So, I'm not crazy, I'm just smarter than you.
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Salem's Damned
By William Donica (Me)
My loving God
Ignores my cries.
As his servants
Tear out my eyes.
I've spoken not,
In Satan's love.
Though God sends wrath
Down from above.
Beaten for days,
They ask my sin.
They think evil
Under my skin.
I must not yield.
A liar burns.
Trapped deep in hell,
For life he yearns.
This morning I
Will surely hang.
Though praise to God,
I've always sang.
Though I wish not
To die this day,
Over God's will
I hold no sway.
.
.
.
.
.
This poem is about the Salem Witch Trials. I wrote it from the point of view of the accused.
Skin Him (Updated)
by William Donica (me)
I'll kill you now,
You worthless swine.
I'll hang your skin
Upon a line.
I'll cut your veins
And crush your head.
Until you're cold,
Bloody, and dead.
I'll slice your flesh.
The blood and gore
Forms a puddle
Here on the floor.
I'll tan the hide.
My leather coat
Made from your back,
Chest, legs, and throat.
I'm finished now.
I'll try it on.
All trace of life
Is long since gone.
Oh, how it fits!
So soft and light.
Maybe you shouldn't
Have caused that fight.
.
.
.
My two previous posts are other poems.
Slumber Party
By William Donica (me)
I baked poor Lucy.
(Nice and juicy)
I cut up Tom.
(And his mom)
I ground up Jim.
(Along with Tim)
I would eat Matt.
(But, too much fat)
I deep fried Shary.
(Seasoned with rosemary)
I flame grilled Marty.
(So much for the slumber party)
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Read last two posts for more psychosis.
On account of people making fun of this one, I'd like to point out that it was written by me in the eight grade.
Updated: 07/10/09 2:43 AM 11 comments | Log in to comment! | Share this!I'm Not Crazy
by William Donica (me)
Do you think I'm sick?
Do you think I'm Crazy?
That my grip on the real
Is becoming quite hazy?
I'll tell you now,
You blue Irish setter,
That my seven heads
Have never felt better.
I'll prove it to you
That I am quite sane.
Could one crazy man
Have built this airplane?
Out of ribbons and string,
A red ceiling fan,
The organs and skin
Of one nosy mailman?
He saw all the blood.
His heart started to race,
He turned into a monkey,
So I cut off his face.
Now that you're here,
It seems sadly so,
You'll tell the lizards
So I can't let you go.
.
.
.
Read last post for a creepy one.
Skin Him
by William Donica (me)
I'll kill you now,
You worthless swine.
I'll hang your skin
Upon a line.
I'll slice it off.
The blood and gore
Forms a puddle
Here on the floor.
I'll tan the hide.
My leather coat
Made from your back,
Chest, legs, and throat.
Oh, how it fits!
So soft and light.
Maybe you shouldn't
Have started that fight.