Worms

March 27th, 2022

I think I’m getting tired

Of still setting fire

To their plastic attire

And inventing liars

Out of none who conspire

Looking around for years

With my head up the rear

So I avoid being steered

By my s**t-covered fears

And all their brown-nosed careers

So I'd never thought I’d see

Growing on a real tree

An apple blossom for me

That failed to wilt or flee

Absent from conspiracy

Afraid I’ll just turn my head

To the pink bleeding red

And the petals being shed

And my eyes have misread

That the ink is really lead

I’m feeding my fixation

Of false degradation

And clinging to starvation

But can’t find cessation

Without any taxation

I’m tired of being cold

And always being sold

To my illogical molds

And would rather be sold

To his unquestioning hold

Author's Note

Ass crack the sequel would have been better 0.5/10 for rhyming sold with sold but 11/10 for predicting the future