The Band Bus

While cleaning out the basement, I stumbled across an old poem I'd written back when I was angry and had an impared vocabulary (as well as, apperently, many issues with tenses). I somewhat remembered saying something about it on one of my posts a long, long, long time ago.

It's synical, depressing, and briliant. I'll have it posted soon.

I wrote that on June 18th, 2005. That post was a major milestone for me, as it was my first rant on society. Aww, isn't that cute?? And look how far I've come! Now I can't shut up about society, love, and the like. Well, anyway, about the poem...apparently "soon" means almost a year. Puntual, eh? And I wouldn't exactly call it brilliant...perhaps 8th-grade-writer brilliant, because it suffers at my current standards. But, seeing as I really hate to go back on my word, here it is, in all its glorious junior-highness...

Which is Hell?
Here or there?
At the moment
I cannon tell.

Is it truely
A firy pit?
Or this Earth we live in
A madhouse of shit

Is the ruler really
A red skinned demon?
Or something self imposed
Our own politians?

Are we now dead,
Being punished for past crimes?
Stealing and cheating
And taking lives

We don't know what we have
Until we lose it
Our powers aren't hailed
'Till we abuse it

For something so precious
Something so dear
It angers many hearts
And causes much fear

Yet I fear
We'll never know
If our bane is here
Or far below.