Claims about being a man of substance are repeated,
Despite the stamping of feet and incredibly childish tantrums that accompany such statements.
I am a man of substance,
No, say it with more confidence,
No, it has to inspire fear,
Too much emotion,
Oh no, your voice can’t keep up with your mind, schadenfreude strikes again
This is the rehearsed line that you tell yourself to absolve yourself of your increasingly frail position in life and your sins?
You are even more pathetic than we thought you were.
You lied, hurt others, and were cruel to the people who wanted to see the best in you.
You took every chance to put down the one person who made your life the great life that you make it out to be.
I can just imagine you convincing yourself of an alternate reality in front your mirror in that dark bathroom hidden away at the corner of that house, where only five steps away entire dusty volumes by Jiddu Krishnamurti on the value kindness and humility sit there waiting to be reread.
You keep on throwing out that word as if it’s the request for idlis and uttapams that you inflict on the one member of kin who even gives an iota of a thought about you.
Shame your palette could not keep up with the august image that you have impressed upon others.
You are certainly a man of substance,
And that substance is mercury.
Shiny and more of an indicator of its environment, with none of the structural tenacity or integrity of carbon.
Much like mercury, you are poisonous and when people are exposed to you, they fall ill,
And when we are exposed to yo,u we wish for your permanent expeditious removal from our lives,
Constantly shifting your form to be something that willbe palatable to the other people at the other end of the table.
Men who have to routinely proclaim that they are men of substance are not constituted of the substances that they claim to be,
Fools Gold, Mercury, the list is there, just check the table of elements that you hold as gospel.
Now it’s your turn to deal with the aftereffects of your own exposure,
Sit and rot in your draftless room until the sun rises again, devouring an endless stream of content that would a right-wing dictator proud.
You claim that you are of sound mind, but that mind is made of clay and is rapidly collapsing,
How does it feel? To feel the vulnerability that you make light of in others?
How does it feel to have progeny that will never continue your legacy?
How does it feel to be like Lady Macbeth, constantly crying for that foul spot to be removed?
Every compliment is barbed and ****** others.
But your delivery fools people into thinking that this injection is good for you,
Go and sit with that relative of yours who is the pinnacle of success - you have a lot in common.
Tell the world how you believe that women are inferior beings to you.
Shout from the rooftops that you see queer people as less then,
And say it with your chest, you believe that people from different faiths deserve to be judged and treated horribly,
Go on, you are a man of substance.