It must take hate to love me.
Despise me with passion.
Loathe me into proving,
That all I think is wrong.

If hating me is what it takes,
To motivate the change,
To be who You want to be,
I’ll be the villain for you.

If my tears will bring you joy,
you need my blood to bathe.
Take me in your arms,
And gently slice my neck.

Listening to the great leader
And he promises better wages,
A better economy,
Safer streets,
Domestic manufacturing for national autonomy.
Just wondering when it's supposed to begin,
So far as I can see
The politicians taking the stage
Are long bought before they address the Republic.
40 years of presidents like pages,
Each turning over to new additions to a chapter
This awful period befallen our nation.
Another ink blotch, intelligible stains,
On the history of America

I don't understand
Why some people
Have different opinions
the pandemic or climate change?

Since when did we
start having opinions
on facts?
When did we start
Picking and choosing
Our realities?

Beauty is subjective, yes,
But something is beautiful about you.
I find his laugh charming.
I find her eyes breathtaking.
What about me?

Why can’t I take that same practice,
And preach it to myself?
Sure, beauty is found within.
But what’s the point in that,
If in the end you still hate your looks.

We worry so much about others beauty
That we can never focus on our own.
Find something about yourself that is beautiful
Each day, for a week.
How much will that change your mind?

How strange a tide… apathetic to its core.
Novichok in the system — we’ve already hit the floor.
Not without warning for the interested few.
Sure, indigo on the spectrum, but black in our view.
Our prophets are wary, lamenting for the lot.
The glass thicker than ever: they’re forced to watch them rot.
Let’s not dilute it over biscuits and tea.
We’re addicted to passion; it drains both you and me.
Quit cold turkey; we’ll wither and die within the week.
We blew past the sabbath; so muddle on and be meek.
Telephone the skies, but the network is full:
We put off the harvest — our calls all but null.
“Don’t think just breathe and wait for the pull of the plug.”
There’s a way, truth, and life; but deafness is the most popular drug.
Our water is muddy; the dolls’ overjoyed.
Reject all the falsehoods; their eyes shimmer from the void.
I’m here to remind you there’s more than you think.
Dead end paths are common; they want you to sink.
Exist behind ego and you’ll miss the horizon.
Perspective’s a gift if you’re looking to wisen.
Races aren’t games for an aspiring professional.
Throw out your excuses you don’t need a confessional.
There’s anguish in the conviction; you’ll be forced to commit.
But sleep-walking is pervasive; few actually submit.