Spite

I think to spite the world.
To spite the world where
there is no thinking
where people stumble and fall
and get up again
grinning stupidly
as if they've done no more
than taken
a drink in the middle of the night.

I live to spite the world.
To spite the world where
there is no love for living
where people suffer and die
and suffer all over again
as though suffering
is the only thing
that is worth remembering.

I love to spite the world.
To spite the world where
there is no loving
where people laugh to see
beggars die in the streets
and rejoice when children die
as if they've done nothing
other than reading the news
about their so-called victory.

Spite is such a hateful word, I think.
But I still spite all the same
Because this world needs some spiting.

-Scarlet-



This poem is a bit weird eh? Needs some fine tuning. Am in the mood for writing crap.