(Hour 9)

Fragile lives and shattered dreams,
all coming apart at the seems,
the cruelest dream is our reality,
a fatality not before known,
while others were thrown,
from where we used to meet,
we can’t beat how this world has changed,
becoming to desolate and deranged,
trying to adapt to this world
that has changed.
The poor scrounging for dirty needles,
while the rich are nothing more
then blood sucking beetles,
keeping their stance in society,
by taking away their variety.
Trapped at the bottom of the ladder,
but would you rather,
be the one scrounging for dirty needles,
or the blood sucking beetles,
who made them this way,
what more can I say,
this is the way we pray,
focused on ourselves,
only caring for our position
on the ladder,
but if you had a choice,
would you listen to that voice,
be the one scrounging for dirty needles,
or the blood sucking beetles,
I know the truth of your choice,
you will ignore that voice,
as if you had no choice,
you will continue with your day,
there’s nothing more that I can say,
no matter if you continue to pray,
no one cares what you have to say,
but I will tell you this day,
you are no better then the
blood sucking beetles
you only wish to decay.

(Hour 8)

She loves the pain,
but hates to bleed,
her pain continues to feed,
reckless during the night,
loving the fight,
screaming after each bite,
the agony of this calamity,
is whats driving my insanity,
she’s the queen of terror,
my princess of the night,
normal during the light,
but never at night,
with one more bite,
she’s filled with delight,
but night after night,
she craves the fight.

(Hour 7

I’m alright, okay?
What else can I say,
you continue to pray,
and say how dismain,
I appear to be,
when will you see,
that this is me.
I am happy is this place,
not looking for a race,
or another lying face,
destroyed by the void
they call self pity,
a drop with no bottom,
but you brought then
with glee.
When will you see,
that this is just me.

(Hour 6)

Take your hatred out on me,
pull the knife out of the dammed
and watch them bleed,
watch them plead for forgiveness,
the only thing that seems
to give any relevance,
so take your stance,
be the firs tin line to dine
on their fear.
While the crowd begins to cheer,
there is no forgiveness here,
everyone is but a dear,
with a knife being pulled out,
simply to be watched while they bleed,
as they start to plead for forgiveness,
no longer caring for relevance,
regretting the stance you once took,
we changed the chapters of this book,
for the tables have been turned
and this time it’s you getting burned.

“Liar, Cheater, Heathen” (Hour 5)

Liar, cheater, heathen,
are the only words they’re breathing,
while the laws are so deceiving,
thinking it will be relieving,
to continue believing our old ways,
even if it was all just a phase,
given to us by ones
following some strange craze,
but these are the days we live in.
An oppression of the imperial power,
putting one more flower on their grave,
yet continue with their rave,
only standing with one more foot in the grave,
mindlessly popping more pills,
then hills they had traveled,
baffled by the amazement,
given by these pills,
they ignore the worry and chills,
no expectations to acknowledge,
when none are going near college.
Liar, cheater, heathen,
are the only words I want
to hear them breathing,
even though their laws are deceiving,
I find their words relieving,
the truth that they’re speaking,
calming yet relieving,
I see how reality can be deceiving,
hopeless without meaning.
So they changed their wills,
began with popping pills,
spending late nights hiding in the mills,
these were the greatest thrills
of their lives.

“The Lynching” (Hour 4)

I was born an accident,
no longer a resident,
with no reason to repent,
Nothing more then
a failed abortion,
thrown into a world
of distortion.
Killed before my peers,
bringing out
my deepest fears,
while the crowed
shouts and cheers.
Here’s to the one,
they all chose
to pick on,
the one who
was only,
causing friction
within their beliefs,
receiving less relief,
in what they prefer,
but you’d rather refer,
to the misunderstood,
hiding under their hood,
avoiding conflicts,
resolving issues,
nothing more
then a box
of tissues,
only to
be misused.

(Hour 3)

Darkness is rising,
while the moon is colliding,
with the sun,
there’s no where left
for you to run,
you’re done, finished,
nothing left but
an empty shell,
welcome to this world you created,
this place that I have hated,
the longer I existed,
the more time I wasted.
But bliss and in denial,
feeling I have been thrown on trial,
of nothing but my peers,
with their ears wide open,
not truly caring what is spoken,
in the long run for them,
this was simply just fun,
thoughts never lasting,
while the rest continue to fast,
trapped under the rubble,
trying to avoid all trouble,
but caught in the crossfire,
by nothing but another liar,
you can’t conspire against us,
all are consumed on this bus,
conformity is our normality,
so stop with the fuss
and you will see.
On our last day,
I only have this to say,
weather you are one beneath the rubble,
only wanted to avoid all trouble,
or simply an empty shell,
stating again
Welcome to this world you created,
this place that I have hated,
the longer I existed,
the more time I wasted.
with nothing to gain,
this place is driving me insane,
but weather you take a bus or plane,
you will all remain
in this world you created,
what a time you wasted.

“The Truth” (Hour 2)

Your suffering is my happiness,
with the pain in your lies,
and the tears in your eyes,
yet I continue to despise you.
Though this may be true,
with nothing you can do,
I will continue the same path,
you will see my wrath.
Not believing what I do,
was ever true.
This show you wanted to go,
is coming to an end,
lets not pretend,
that you can not comprehend,
the statement I am making,
weather you are taking it,
or whatever you do,
this statement still stays true,
but between me and you,
there’s nothing you can do.

“Our Atlantis” (Hour 1)

Bubbles rise to the surface,

as my lungs deplete of oxygen,

not knowing exactly where to begin,

I start my task,

with one swig of my flask,

as it starts like a flash,

not caring about the lash that may be,

but simply waiting to see,

just what may be.

Flailing my arms,

trying to swim in a world,

a world unlike another,

a world I have seen destroy many other,

drowning them in this sea I despise,

this sea flowing only of lies,

our world needs to relies where we float.

These crashing currents,

are sinking this boat.

In a hopeless attempt,

I grasp for air,

ignoring my despair.

At the top we thought we stood,

but we were all so misunderstood,

preparing our Atlantis for evacuation,

this world is no vacation,

but a coffin we have built,

with our own filth in a putrid instance,

this place we loved so dearly,

a world you no longer can see clearly,

but unknowingly,

I continue to stay afloat,

watching this world

burn in front of me,

while I see it continue to drown.

But this is our Atlantis,

that we continue to sink,

not caring to think what will happen,

when will the chaos begin.

Now it’s time

to top up my flask of gin,

but remember children,

you will never know,

when this show will begin.

My name is kenny sztejner, I am 16, from Ontario Canada and I am quite new to writing, i’ve been writing mainly since the past summer, this past October i won “Young Poets Of Canada” so my poem is being published in their anthology, which is where i started to get enough confidence to share my poems with others, I am doing this marathon in hope to meet other poets and to share ideas, and get my thoughts more out in the open.