teachers,like creatures,
with artistic features,
preaches to peaches,
on sealife and beaches.
SLIME...
pieces of slime,
commiting their crime,
with their messed up minds,
no compassion they find,
hurting the weak,the meek
and the blind,
but these people aren`t kind,
as each day we grind.
more hurt and pain,
as each day they gain,
but inside my brain,
i know they`re not sane,
but must i refrain,
when they call out my name,
it`s all such a game,
but to win they must mame.
destroying the lives,
of our children and wives,
cutting open like knives,
as infliction does strive,
but no-where to hide,
no there`s no where inside,
as the ending is certain,
as i draw the curtain,
to stop me from hurting,
to sleep well within,
now let my life begin.
neil slater...date unknown....2001
