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BoogzThePoet Dec 2018
Nothing is enough
Nothing says love more then a social media post about her, right?
A post to reinsure that my position being a son is formed by approval for the media to recognize that my love is enough
I think about this every day.
Why do you need a post to assure your loved? Liked?
Maybe ill just like the post so the repercussions don’t fall far from the petty position she’s left standing on,
Firm, aligned, or is she an allie?
An allie that this mother tore the son’s soul from every being that man she always wanted but never let the soul of cujo surpass his demons.
I was the demon.
I never knew how to love her. I was always civil.
I always knew resentment.
Because to her,
Love is letting everyone see a satisfaction,
Stevie wonder’s superstition, spoke to me, while he sang “writings on the wall”, I posted a post of a glimmering light while I was sitting, dwelling in the dark.
Addicted to drugs, and now pills till this day and somehow she wants respect out of me?
Respect from what?
Respect to whom?
****, you got to respect my hustle.
All I ever did was want nothing more then a mother,
I can call my best friend.
I see it everywhere, the bond that a mother shares that a child will chase to the highest cloud looking for their mother’s direction to soar.
Soaring always came as an instinct to me.
My father drank my childhood down,
I found my childhood down street,
I was never trained to expand my wings, to oversee my demons, direct myself to a clash of life’s titans,
I found strength in friends.
I’m alive cause of them.
I’m a better man cause of it.
I’m the king who was killed from chapter one.
I will always love you for being my mother, being the one who kept me alive before memories faded from the blunt I held, choking.
badtaste Jan 2022
coward…
finish the poem/
do you love her, or do you not?
they are all in anticipation with how you will prolong these unsettled emotions with interrupted punctuation…
ellipses are used as visual seeds on your paper to plant the exposition of the prologue to a metaphor illustrating a tree of all branching decisions that lead to this over exhausted tragedy
spilt the rain check or bark up new rearranged jigsaw  literature structures  
make this sentence not rhyme with any other jargon found above or below
sure…just reinsure you’re not the monster when you have so much self awareness to your problem,
don’t forget you’re an addict to self inflicted mistakes
back stabbing yourself hurts , but the rush is worth the risk your subconscious is the witness and victim but has no way to make you listen

COWARD
finish the poem/
no more discussions
don’t overthink your worst mistakes

— The End —