“Bad” is yet another empty word, like “good”, or “sad”.. Lacking in meaning but still existing Even though there is no real use in existing without expression But that’s what I do..I exist without expression Because it’s too hard for me to express myself to you But that doesn’t make me bad... Bad means so much more than that... Maybe I am bad... Because my morals have fuzzy lines all around them Because I think of torrents of abuse to pour out to you But I can never say them because I’m a coward And cowardice is bad But everyone perceives bad differently I think bad is someone Waiting to capture your soul and terrorize your life Wanting to rip your flesh apart and devour those morsels Craving you..to get a sort of perverse satisfaction.. Out of what, though? That’s right, absolutely nothing... We are both completely bad... But we’re still happy
Reason for writing:
This is my own way of explaining that every little word has a whole world behind it.
Birth sign: Gemini
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Parvati.