Eric Adams (1/23/90 / CA)

I remember the used,
The ones abused,
Beaten to depression,
Tears of pain,
Lost in confusion,
A world black of hate.

Crying tunes of hate,
The minds of the used,
Now filled with confusion,
Their lives abused,
A state of pain,
The chain of depression,

The memories of depression,
The faces of hate,
Weighed down by pain,
Beaten and used,
The ones abused,
lost in confusion.

The label of confusion,
On a plate of depression,
Given to those abused,
The planted seeds of hate,
A bush beaten and used,
The thorns of pain.

An orchestra of pain,
With notes of confusion,
A song called used,
Interments of depression,
Plays tunes of hate,
To those abused.

This me world abused,
My life a world of pain,
Memories of hate,
The smell of confusion,
The darkness of my depression,
A life used.

The path for the used and abused,
Confusion of those in depression,
The hate caused by pain.