This Poem was Submitted By: Brian Phillip Briggs On Date: 2000-10-06 01:32:29 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!

Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!


Where's My Medicine?

I'm sick.  I'm sick of the never ending quest to better ourselves and improve our lives. I'm sick of the backstabbing relationships we enter into throughout life: the middle school puppy love, the high school soap opera,  the college fuck-fest, the married argument and the divorced or widowed middle-aged death. I'm sick of the on going charade of life, superficiality, the way we present ourselves to society in order to keep with the "in" crowd. I'm sick of people trying to be different when I know all that they really want is to be accepted, to fit in, to be normal. I'm sick of narrow-minded gang-bangers and the pigheaded bullshit they represent. I'm sick of the giant media fanatics that run the world and use us as fire wood. I'm sick of the death of originality and the life of the trends. I'm sick of the crappy music, of the uninspiring action movies where the good guy wins every time. I'm sick of the advantages and disadvantages we hold over each other. I'm sick of people telling me what to do, of the authority granted to us because of who our fathers were. I'm sick of the uncaring caretakers of life, and the ignorant geniuses of modern science. I'm sick of Humanity playing with fire, trying to manipulate forces that it doesn't and can't comprehend. I'm sick of the hypocrisy that we all take part of and never revolt against. I'm sick  of the arrogance of men and women, of the war of the sexes, of the war of the races, I wish we were all color blind and asexual. I'm sick of popular opinion, of majority rules, of the capitalistic communists and what they really represent. I'm sick of the world and it's continuing downward spiral. I'm sick of night and day, of sleeping six hours, and always wondering what goes on behind my back. I'm sick of the infinite possibilities the universe presents to us and us choosing the wrong ones. I'm sick of waiting for the time to come, when will it come, if ever? I'm sick of life, the life I didn't ask for, the life I can't get used to, the life I don't understand. I'm sick of everything. I'm sick of myself. I'm sick of being sick.

Copyright © October 2000 Brian Phillip Briggs


Sorry, there are no critiques for this poem in our system... If the poem is older, the critiques have been purged! Poetry Contests Online at The Poetic Link

Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!