posted on Jun, 17 2006 @ 02:59 AM
A disturbed mind is somewhat hard to find,
For in their soul they’re one of a kind.
Appear to be normal, sane and sedate,
You won’t even know until it is too late.
The calmness, the reason, as normal as you,
The darkness, the danger, understand only few.
No drugs needed to feed the thoughts,
That if not stopped may end up in the courts.
Russian roulette in their mind they play,
Through out the night, throughout the day.
Visions of fury, dreams of violence,
That start out ear piercing, yet end in pure silence.
Uncontrollable thoughts of war and destruction,
Of anarchy, hell, and human reduction.
It depresses, yet educates, prepares and ponders,
What if, what may, and possible responses.
Are you freaked out, do you worry,
For there is no remorse and there is no sorry.
Perverted dreams of end-times arriving,
Thoughts of preparing, thoughts of surviving.
Disturbed he may be, crazy he is not,
He foresees a time when mass casualties will rott.
Not psycho, maybe weird, only his thoughts he does fear.
He wishes this evil from his mind he could clear.
He stands alone fulfilled with rage,
Who dares to turn him to the wrong page.
Beliefs are what we have, sane weird or disturbed,
We are who we are, good, evil or absurd.
The mind is the true intelligent being,
For it controls us by what it has seen.
We are just a vehicle for its interaction,
Yet the mind fights with itself to avoid destruction.
Twisted and tormented, euphoria and pain,
Intelligent, enlightened, or bordering on insane.
He who is ridiculed, persercuted for being odd,
Shall laugh hard and long as your bodies they do rott.