A horrible poem I wrote late at night while angsting out:
I had that dream again where I was dead
And you were up and walking in my head
And I realized nothing had changed
That everything was still the same
And now I'm just tired of it
My angst and all that stupid shit
But I'm wondering what I should do
And I don't have a goddam clue
So I'm stuck writing poetry and listening to ska
The strike of the Teenage Angst Beast
You work so hard you think it's play
And do it every single day
Nailing on a crucifix
when you see it you'll shit bricks
Now everything I'm working toward
will ultimately be ignored
Because I lack the strength to say
what I've been thinking every day
So I'm stuck writing poetry and listening to ska
The strike of the Teenage Angst Beast
And now the beast is stuck with me
eating all that i should see
It's left me with this shitty poem
And cut my rhymes short like a gnome
Bitter and dissatisfied
Like everything that i've defied
I've become what i hate
And probably you can relate
When You're stuck writing poetry and listening to ska
'
The Strike of the Teenage Angst Beast
While i'm talking to Jeff Feast
As I prepare my counterattack
with all the stuff i thought I lack
Look it right in the eye
raise that finger to the sky
Fuck you, beast. Go away.
You're not taking me today.
I beat you writing poetry and listening to ska.