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letra de d'evil - s.t.i.c.s

this right here is not a regular poem. this is not a happy poem nor a poem that i’m expecting you to feel good after reading. this is a poem for the ones who hide behind reality. this is a poem dedicated not to the ones who believe that their actions are of angel’s. this a, poem for the d-evil that lives within some people that needs to be spoken of and addressed

shadows follow the victims into their nightmares, where lights start to scare
but on or off doesn’t really matter when you’re a child and you have no choice
you’ve grown up thinking it’s normal for grown men to touch young boys
what good does it do talking about s-xual intercourse and how to protect yourself in class, when. i’ve seen naked bodies lie on top of me since i was about nine

hardly understand rights from wrong, sweat dripping off the bed corner, who ordered comfort? holding hands, him penetrating a youth, a child, an infant, incest, bond to give complex, uncle touching young family members
what the f— is wrong with u?

n0body loved you as a youth, answer me? why is my future fu—d up because of your past? i could have become a doctor, i could have become a righteous type of police. you know the type that are supposed to protect good peoples living in our society
instead, now you can catch me in lower class clubs, don’t really think that i’m worth very much so i, hang around whoever is willing to pay me any attention

battling my own demons, because the one who sent them is on another level
if he had the audacity to touch me than i’m probably not the first nor will i be the last
i got this confrontation every night with myself in the mirror like
i got the biggest mouth out of all my friends but why didn’t i say anything?

…he used to say that to me too

a lot more than words can fit in that mouth…
friends weren’t informed because who wants a friend who can’t stand up for himself?
everyday became judgment day and i was on trial as an oppressor
even though i was the one being oppressed, pushed, living on the edge, but not in that exciting way. for who hides at the bottom of the canyon if not goliath? and forget david’s sling-shot, this paper beats his rock so this paper witnesses the shock, of our reality

like that’s not enough these people fly overseas to practice gandhi’s theory of non-violence and, for rupee’s, indian kids are being tempted to touch tempted to touch, tempted to touch. d’evil whispers, and it creeps. t.l.c, the, tender love and care was present and i can swear that u can have your gift back

don’t take candy from strangers but why do strangers offer it to kids?
i once told this doctor that it makes me sick that i don’t have the patience needed. needles conceited, options about meetings the medicine is quarrelling with my feelings, guaranteed to be floating on cloud nine, but in h-ll i’ve already been!

in fact, the contracts have already been signed. you can go from summer to winter and i guarantee that the wise will do nothing but to keep watching
but you can’t go back in time, you see not in my mind
i don’t mind looking you straight in the eye because today? today i am but a ghost. i’m the child that commercial such as e.c.p.a.t speak about, speak about why are you freaking out?

does my voice disturb you?
does the truth bring creeps to your body?
i used to have a body, dreaming about being somebody
dizygotic left the other half with bottles of hypnotiq, half psychotic, my body was my temple

psychologically demolished, moved into shaitan’s house and turned it into my home, and even though i’m carrying the same secret that many in this room have i’m still trying to rest in peace…while our oppressors will still remain unknown

…so cold
i shiver when i speak. now i am but your bitter conscious that wouldn’t call for help, ashamed

i saw what he did to you
and i’m sorry for not stopping him

- s t i c s

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