Closed Debate

My poetry is usually to debate a question about my inner angst, loneliness and direction. At this point I sit here debating reason, what do I do with all of these traitors and their treason. I'm tired of repeating myself, the government doesn't care, it's a pointless debate, these shit heads are everywhere.

At least on X I can be more vulgar. I can use terms id never use like "treasonous whore". id rather write love notes full of complements and care, but after all this shit the love is just not there. im stuck in a pool of bad metaphors and anger attempting to reason myself through all of this hell. one step at a time, that's what I would usually say, but that doesn't apply here, not now, not today.

Im surrounded by "fuck", im getting more aggressive, every cell in my body wants to beat into the dirt. I must be reserved, stay calm and collected, all hail discipline and the strength that it brings. my debate now is about torment and torture, trying to understand what the fuck these fools did. my life is shit by no doing of my own, they fucked my whole family, they just need to go.

i watched that stupid cop beat a 100 pound chick and feel proud of himself that he got the upper hand, it blows my mind that all they need is a hat, im on the opposite side of this table, their gonna get it back. I used to tell my c***dren that the police are good, I even wrote an essay about how divine it all was. but this sentiment has abruptly ended, they are the reason that all of our families keep falling apart. the biggest expense on the budget these days are these treasonous fools and their treasonous ways.

I've arrived at an impasse, I can shoot through or fly over, I can write [FkU] write across this scamada land. I think to myself, "what about the c***dren"...


What c***dren? they k**napped them.