Let Me Be Poem by Amy Kerswell

When will this way of living go?
Will it ever subdue?
When will I forget?

Post truamatic distress.
You have a lot to bludy answer for.
God how I wish I was free.
I going to live with sainton.

And pay em all back.
With my pointed stick.
And with my red eyes.
I see you mother fuckers.
But your gonna get it big time.

Post trumatic distress.
You are not the problem.
I was driven mad by them.
Them fuckers who abused me.
They are to blame.

But I will have my revenge one day soon.
One day very very soon.