Well this is a poem i wrote not too long ago, just finished actually…

You Might As Well Have Pulled The Trigger
the constant teasing
always trying to be pleasing
drastic measures
showing off treasures
grinding others into dirt
making them bloody and hurt
crushing their dreams
drowning them in teary streams
all the pain
the feeling of hatred
of unwanted
never feeling good enough
or having cool enough stuff
mocked everyday
strength tested in every way
crushing them
never letting them win
constantly making them feel so small
and what’s the point of it all?
is it just something to do?
or does it make you feel better about you?
why does it make you so sicky happy
to see others so full of misery?
does seeing their running tears
help cure your pathetic fears?
and as each passing second goes by
their cheeks becoming wetter and wetter
you laugh cruelly to yourself
feeling all the more better
you take so much pride
in watching people scream and hide
as they crumble in their sadness
driven to insanity and madness
thinking only of yourself, with the constant taunts
just to fulfill your pathetic wants
after all, what does it matter to you if they’re hurt?
to you they’re nothing but a speck of dirt
but just remember
by making yourself bigger
you might as well have pulled the trigger