How dare you compare us against you.
The unfortunate ones, and yes, I’ll include you.
I hate it, and I hate you too.
The way you lounge around our home like you belong here, like you own our things here, like you remember being raised here.
By now you should be thinking about how fortunate you are, you’ve got a good man and a beautiful son.
That poor baby doesn’t yet know, but it’s us, not you, who’s running this whole sh*t show.
It’s not about the money for us, because guess what? THERE IS NONE.
I’m sorry we forgot to hand you a memo, I guess we just couldn’t remember.
Apparently we’re all r*tarded here, you’ve said it yourself.
But that’s something we think about, when we’re placing heads on our shelves.
“Heads?! Are you psycho?!” You squeal in disdain.
Wouldn’t you know? One of them has your name.
Stapled to the chin.
And blocking your airway, but the hatred still got in.
Festering and burning your lungs until you can’t help but spew out.
“Danger, toxic waste!”
Sorry, but this line of thought just got discontinued, apparently we’re all r*tarded and don’t know how to fix anything in our lives, we’ve got our heads in the gutters.
While you’re in our house vaping and drinking, playing mystic doctor with your crystals, and draining all your thoughts away.
While you’re draining all your funds, don’t you know the money will run out?
Just like that one kid, I think Mike was his name, he shot his brains out after his mom went insane.
Drained – why don’t you get it?
Like a bright pink smoothy, his brain on the carpet and all over the stairway and the front door too!
Ha! what a way to make an entrance and a departure.
I guess now we’re all losers.
Life’s psycho, b*tch, but what do we know?
Hey guys, this is a poem/rap I wrote on a bad day. What do you think? I know it’s harsh, and it’s sort of out-of-character for me, but I just don’t usually post my darker/dirtier things to this blog (or any blog really).
Here’s my Ko-Fi page if you would like to buy me a coffee. Thanks for reading!