Temper is temperance, and your tantrum is distasteful.
You are wasteful with words, and your tongue is disgraceful.
Your antagonizing diction may indoctrinate neutral dispositions,
But you're stripped of sacred freedom while you veto His convictions.
My temple is flooding with thoughts— brooding and erosive,
Yet withheld by the virtue of my wisdom and endeavored devotion.
......
My ears are jaded from the words you put on the street,
And your petulance is exhausting to the candid you mistreat.
My feet hurt from egg shells and your mouth litters hypocracy,
And you deprive yourself of righteous validity by taking pride in fallacious exalting.
You drain life from good people and are a thief of their vitality,
And you pursue an egocentric facade and wed a victim's mentality.
I don't seek a good name, nor do I value a worldly reputation,
But you deceive your circles with yellow journalism and I averse exploitative falsism.
......
They tell me I can be whatever I choose
That a man can become a woman,
That flesh can defy the hands of its Maker,
That truth is no longer truth but mere opinion.
Lies! Deception! Blasphemy!
Has the creation risen above the Creator?
Shall the clay rebuke the Potter,
Claiming He has made a mistake?
Oh, foolish generation, drowning in pride,
You shake your fists at heaven,
......
If pain were a bucket,
You'd be the largest one,
Pouring your trauma out like a faucet
Unto those who show you love
You're like a raging storm,
Leaving destruction in its wake
With thunderous words filled with hate
Yet still, I saw in you the potential to create
When you saw yourself as someone who should have never been born
......
Memory is a sick lie
A joke
We choke on
Collectively
Memory is rose gold
Damp with mold
Stretched thin and wide
It fills me with hope
......
They tell me I can be whatever I choose
That a man can become a woman,
That flesh can defy the hands of its Maker,
That truth is no longer truth but mere opinion.
Lies! Deception! Blasphemy!
Has the creation risen above the Creator?
Shall the clay rebuke the Potter,
Claiming He has made a mistake?
Oh, foolish generation, drowning in pride,
You shake your fists at heaven,
......
My ears are jaded from the words you put on the street,
And your petulance is exhausting to the candid you mistreat.
My feet hurt from egg shells and your mouth litters hypocracy,
And you deprive yourself of righteous validity by taking pride in fallacious exalting.
You drain life from good people and are a thief of their vitality,
And you pursue an egocentric facade and wed a victim's mentality.
I don't seek a good name, nor do I value a worldly reputation,
But you deceive your circles with yellow journalism and I averse exploitative falsism.
......
Temper is temperance, and your tantrum is distasteful.
You are wasteful with words, and your tongue is disgraceful.
Your antagonizing diction may indoctrinate neutral dispositions,
But you're stripped of sacred freedom while you veto His convictions.
My temple is flooding with thoughts— brooding and erosive,
Yet withheld by the virtue of my wisdom and endeavored devotion.
......
Something must be wrong with me
To make me care about a man
Who can't take the time to reply to me
Or simply give a damn
I can only make assumptions
At this point I'm less upset
That he only wanted to fuck me
But too bad for him, I'm not done yet
......
If pain were a bucket,
You'd be the largest one,
Pouring your trauma out like a faucet
Unto those who show you love
You're like a raging storm,
Leaving destruction in its wake
With thunderous words filled with hate
Yet still, I saw in you the potential to create
When you saw yourself as someone who should have never been born
......