What? You don’t like my vibe?

You don’t like my stride?

You mad that I have no fear of flight?

That I can cut you out without a knife.

You don’t like the weed I smoke,

that I don’t laugh at your jokes.

Your agenda is to irritate and provoke,

You’ve got an ego always needin’ a stroke.

Why you so jealous at the life I lead?

Because I don’t follow a dead man’s creed?

There’s no god able to cure the infection in me.

Accept that I was grown from a rotten seed.

I’ve been down on my knees,

both to pray and to stray.

I got only silence and a fee,

rapidly, my core began to decay.

What? You don’t like the way I’m so easy?

Does it make your stomach queasy?

The way I sleep around, so cheaply,

The fact my husband comes from my adultery?

Why do you despise the person I’ve become?

Are you unable to love me, though I’m numb?

Even the best people can be cumbersome,

To the rottenness and evil, I succumb.

One thought on “Zero to Thirty-Seven

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