The Black Pit

By: Trisha Anne Marie M. Ventura

I live in a city,
With a solemn implicitly.
Every street implies,
A striking continuity of lies,
Every corner of it,
Is like a deep black pit,
That the more you leave,
The longer they will live.
From school to home I walk,
n my own without even a
stalk.
I had no choice but to pass
by
Through the black pit of dye.
I!m tired of living in this
vicinity.
I!m sick of being surrounded
by people so silly.
I!m tired of people calling me
dead kid,
"ust because I never get to
do their bad deeds.
I want to clear the stage,
Though I!m not yet done with
the last page.
I want to give it, to the one
who deserve it.
I want a lamp that has a
brighter lit.
I hate listening to eerie
noises.
I hate hearing vulgar
#udgments.
It strikes the right ear badly,
Which leaves stitches in the
left ear painfully.
$eople speak sound
#udgments,
%ut never bother to seek
their contentment.
They want life!s publicity&
%ut never had something for
a simple ecstasy.
'ow could you live in a life of
drudgery(
A life that could not even
welcome eternity(
If "esus doesn!t live here,
Then I need to )nd 'im
there.
I want 'is presence,
Fill within my essence.