half of the teenagers I know
make art, and songs, and
poetry just to lash back
at the things they don’t like
in the world

complaining about their friends, or
rebelling against their parents, or
crying about how unfair everything
is

and the stupid ones,
the really stupid ones,
call someone out in
their work

but it’s not just the idiots.

the geniuses, the logicians,
the thinkers, the wise-childs,
the high-school cool kids,
the suicidal geeks, the god-
driven outcasts, the losers
too fat or too weird to hang
out with the “normals”

anyone.

anyone,
who makes any
sort of art,
has done
it.

and they feel stupid,
really, really, stupid
when the person finds
out and the **** hits
the fan and everybody
is on everybody’s side
and nobody’s evil while
everybody’s the bad
guy and it’s funny if
you’re lucky enough
to be outside of it
all

so just like every
stupid habit of man

(like love, and hope,
and destiny)

we cling and repeat,
and rinse and redo,
and keep writing
poems about people
we hate without
saying their name
and instead,
screaming
it

I grin at those
who get this