Thirty Days Of Poetry(Day Seven)

Sometimes i need to scream
like a banshee on crack
no control of the urge
often needed to completely purge
no love lost
hell wasn’t much gained
the human being is indeed strange
glamor appropriated from your brain
yet you wallow in your pain
point and holler as you strain
to condemn the rules of this game
yet you enacted this charade
fully vouched for their campaign
sold a thought or two for the fame
packaged sorrows
well designed depression is what you gave
crocodile tears fill the nile
while the people are parted
you scream hatred of your dearly departed
white arrows aimed at black targets
Afrikan secrets sold on the european market
black winged stallion, I’m a sign
the godz are watching are watching over mind