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by Rae-J Author IconMail Icon
Rated: ASR · Poetry · Gothic · #1223684
A poem about the poison that bleeds through the pores of society and infects us all
If the sight of me makes you ill,
And my name disgusts all people.
Then my symptoms should sicken you,
And make you weak and feeble.
I am destruction at its peak,
And hope at its low.
I am the toxicity of the world,
And of these poisons i grow.
The infectious disease that thrives beneath,
The core of what is habitually called society.
I grow on the uniform distribution of hate,
I spread like disease and i hinder like fate.
The aliment of tranquility or the embracer of calamity,
My presence brings tragedy and my appearance brings insanity.
I am the illness that spreads to every pore of your body,
And i love what i do cuz infecting's my hobby.
I am the concept that fills every fiber of your being,
And defiles it without any sense or any meaning.
I live underneath but I'm subordinate to no one,
I am feared and respected but hated by everyone.
No matter what cure I'll be here and that's a fact,
I am the disease of civilization, and my name is Anthrax.
© Copyright 2007 Rae-J (ibreak4know1 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1223684-Antrhax