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Poetry: Fury

by Frank Balara

Created on: October 24, 2008

The end of something;

It has finally come,

Through the dirt and the slime,

And unmistakable scum,

That lies in this hell-hole,

With heat of blistering degrees,

Boiling the blood,

In my brain's dimly lit seas.

Some evil grim presence,

Has always been here,

Who's slung-out shit,

I no longer can bear.

So now I shall leave,

All this horrible crap,

If I could just find my way.

Could someone show me the map?

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