Persecution Complex Poem by Soren Valentine

Rain is pouring.
Death scoring.
I'm in a car,
and sadness isn't far,
and hatred is in the air,
as They throw me to despair.

Humans may love,
and think themselves doves,
when in reality they are cravens
waiting to be shaven
from their grief.

Swimming in an ocean of madness,
craving all kindness,
whilst people turn their backs and flee
and I learn hatred is everlasting for me.

They seek to get rid of me,
to bind me in darkness and ignore my plea,
for an actual life,
where I am free,
and far from strife.

This life is a prison,
a carcass with no provision,
where death follows the low one,
and shackles await the eager son.

No friends to speak of,
and ever withering is the 'love'.
A family full of jealousy,
deception and idiocy.
Will I ever be released,
as I've ever beseeched,
from my persecution complex?