The voices in my head
belong to all my friends,
a viking here, an officer there
egos all around.
Refreshed anew by this lead,
a soldier bellows 'this is the end!'
as I pull out my hair,
and roll onto the ground.
Contacts ask 'are they dead?'
then I shout 'you're all bell-ends!'
as I kick away my chair,
the mic records no sound.
A very silly stress-relief poem I wrote while angry, short, silly, and not all that good, but I felt like sharing it anyway.