Bad Poetry

So lost
In the perverted crimes of an adolescent.
Typical, unrefined
Lost among waves of bodily fluids
Painted on the walls, blaring arrogance of
Our sins. Held in front of our faces,
Like bloody dawns, painted with our confusion.
Broken fingers, shattered bones of transgression
Big meanings, float in boats of little worlds
We hate, every day
Obese with our revulsion.
Bad spelling, the anorexic holocaust of our fate
Aging eyes of people that speak a different dialect.
Crimson concrete
Solid and wavering
And we know nothing
Eccentric, immediate with
The only thing we knew.
This will end one day.
Right?