With my voice,
written novels
For an ungrateful boss
Without looking,
He slanders every page
And wipes with it later
I'm an overworked author
Boss, please Bob off

All my life
I've written novels
A sea of paper
Confirmation it words
Allas all,
A seated audience
That wanted never
Attend to anyways

What's with the system?
The system that raised us
Yeah, that's you mums & dad's
Sorry not sorry

What's with you?
What made you think
The life you attenpted  to provide
Was good, or even worthy

To you, I would revoke
The very gift you were given.
To create, not everyone deserves this
Especially not you
Who assumes a child should return
Who are even in that case?
Nothing, surely not a parent
As a parents sole role is to give
Give the world, nothing less.

Bubbles on her
Lawn that
Escape left
Hollow

You're too this
If you go out like that...
If you look like this
A Hilbaly jacket?
Your legs look corpselike

Tell me
Your deepest
Darkest secret
And when I find
To face accept
In the heat
Use as casting stone
On it etched
HOW DOES IT FEEL YOU S**T

sixth was bored
Tailored aboard
Drop off a board'
Stopped me abroad

He's so pretty
like the sun
Staring at something hot
Burned into perception