A Torn And Dirty Prayer
A poem with a bit of dirty grunge flavor
Sour pill in my mouth, such an odd kind of aftertaste,
A bitter reminder of a life misplaced.
Through smoky haze and distorted sound,
I dive into darkness, where pain is found.
In the depths of dissonance, my soul resides,
An echo of anguish, where hope collides.
The chords resonate with a rebellious scream,
As I navigate this world, a shattered dream.
Worn hearts and torn souls, we gather here,
In this realm of shadows, where truths appear.
With every riff, a cathartic release,
A gritty refuge where the broken find peace.
The music echoes the disarray within,
A symphony of chaos, where I begin.
No conformity or masks to wear,
Just raw emotion, stripped and bare.
The lyrics paint pictures of despair and strife,
A canvas of darkness, a chaotic life.
I wear the scars like badges of my fight,
In this poetic turmoil, my demons take flight.
Sour pill in my mouth, a taste of defiance,
A grunge without name, a sonic alliance.
Through distorted chords and anguished cries,
I reclaim my voice, where authenticity lies.
In this gritty symphony, I find my solace,
A refuge for the lost, the broken, and the faceless.
Through the noise and distorted haze,
I rise from ashes, embracing my own maze.
So let the music play, loud and unrefined,
In this untamed rebellion, I’ll unbind.
For within the chaos, I’ll discover my might,
In this grunge-infused journey, I’ll reclaim my light.
Sour pill in my mouth, a catalyst for change,
In this poetic turmoil, I’ll rearrange.
With every note, a testament to the pain,
A grunge-born spirit, unyielding and untamed.
