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Jan 2019
I need to find a job
But I’m told I’m flawed
No one will ever applaud
When I’m so far from God
So I hate them and Him
I start selling bags of trim
To become more grim
Than both of their whims

I turn teens into fiends
With no financial means
Forgetting their dreams
To buy my beans
They ransack homes
For permanent loans
Of turbulent tones
To pay my bill
And get their fill
Of pills that thrill
Leaving them still

My cardiac attack
******* packed
Cadillac
Drifts for twelve hour shifts
Driving families to cliffs
Of drug addled rifts
Until I’m mentioned
In interventions
Bringing attention
To my dimension

The cops are behind me
Can they find me
Through the facade I’m designing?
I’m a drug dealer hiding
From society’s bindings
I don’t make a single sound
Once they release the hounds
Searching for those I’ve bound
In my lost and found
They’re just doing their jobs
And so am I
Playing the odds
For a piece of the pie

I’m addicted to the danger
And exploiting strangers
To channel my anger
Into buying a hangar
But white blood cells have been released
Trying to cure my malignant disease
With aggressively insistent antibodies
That won’t let me do as I please

Should I listen to my town
When they’ve always had frowns
And always let me down?
I turn around
Showing them my back
And the piece I pack
If they choose to attack
The bodies will stack

There’s nothing they can say
I’m entrenched in my ways
I can’t see through the haze
Of this capitalist maze
Where I was raised
To look out for myself
By building my wealth
And ignoring the health
Of those hit by my belt
Andrew Rueter
Written by
Andrew Rueter  30/M/Kentucky
(30/M/Kentucky)   
216
     Fawn, --- and Rickie Louis
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