The way things are

There is a poet in chains, inside of me
Pain and burning emotions make good lines
When I am down
My rating goes up, more votes on line

A happy love poem
A visit and nothing
Stomps on my soul

Hell, no I don’t want to let the system down
Bad news sells more copy, than good news
We are all wired oh! so bad
Celebrate death and mayhem

Thousands of years now, the same sick message
Repeatedly
The ink never gets time to dry
Everybody knows, this is how it will always be

What a way to be