This is one the papers would not print for some "unknown" reason, as you'll now get to see many of those filed away:
Who should have been named Rigor Mortis
Slowly plodding for lack of breath
To the finish line perceived as Death
It wasn't until I got angry enough
That I could live without another puff
Of deceptive desire born of fire
Sold by the Empirical Lord of Liars
I still smell the residue of destruction
The stains and stares of this seduction
I was paying Them to kill Me as was designed!
How can something so small control my mind?
So next time you purchase this kind of relief
Know that a pizza or prescription can be just as brief
A pleasure and cure for all that stress
So you'll be fatter and less depressed!
This is the kind of thing I write
While Reality TV is on at night
Okay, it's not really ALL bad news
Cause you always have the power to refuse
To be bombarded in all the static
By another money-crazed fanatic
The only commercial that can heal your soul
Is not to be found in your cereal bowl
Buy yourself a book or a funny pet rat
It cracks me up it's as simple as that
Okay, it's time to wrap this up and go and get my coffee cup
Society is so insane and we're the prisoners of this game
Roll the dice, live in debt, and the running wheel is all you'll get
Addicts to addicts--dust to dust
We all must decide In What We Trust.
Ciera S. Louise c. 03/04/05