Another plain jane,
The same game,
for these wise morons.
An approval rating through the floor
Never tallied to take the rage for
a run.
Paper defining,
Almost breaking-some do,
Bars and barriers bind their poor souls,
Unspeakable acts never lead fingers to
the home where they were born,
but always to the houses where it
all unraveled because of.
Blaming though is ownership, and
this transparent life comes in and out of focus,
an amaurotic existence-the main coercive meat.
Eat up, it’s getting cold.
Its not I, and if it ever is,
find it in isolation,
find it the sound of empty bottles like
a snare drum. Music like this never sounded
so sad, every time evoking more emotions
that are taught to be strangled, subdued,
suppressed, and smothered in
a deprecated habitual suicide.
Divert, dodging one leaves liability to two, or,
lucky bastard, eventually three.
Last long and never live,
Love one and fight feelings,
Evolve, evoke, and
evaporate in emotions
not meant to be felt
because the paper defining police
are paving the road and
no one can pay the fee when
we’re taught to fear
everything and only fight
what we want to be,
instead of everything
that doesn’t want us to be it.
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