I am bad, so bad no badometer can measure
being bad is my leisure
I am the baddest of all creature
when they call me good
I go in a bad mood
then why they should
call me good
My body is filled with evil
world I want to kill
history books with kill I fill
then why they should
call me good
streets with death
blood everywhere shed
children never fed
sleeping without bed
badness I always felt
then why they should
call me good
I am bad being human
like light with no lumen
travel cries of widow women
through vistas of blood and bone
I left the bad mourn.

Tags: Poetry, Mourn, Soul, Evil, Bad

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