Poetry / Kontrol

Where’s the honor
opinion donor
in your slaughter of my desires
Resulting in my actions of irrational passion and partial perceptions
Where’s the recognition
unconventional mention of those predisposed to silent evenings
dripping to mute tomorrows
I borrow the sorrow to soak into and thicken my marrow
I’ve come a long way alone and I’m numb to the cold
Your a sell out
Sold
Dirt cheap
clearance item left by thieves
unpleasant tease who always promises pleasure but never does please
Offers freedom with no release
but still you swear the problem began with me
I think it’s time I forced you to see
What I want is what I want and only I Kontrol me.