Broken cleanliness breeds contempt.
Conversations are percolating with expectancy.
We don’t speak and it’s evident it irks your precedence on life.
Caution errs me to be careful but firm,
resolved within my own sphere of terms and ideologies.
Mouths were made to speak and blab and gossip and lie,
truthfully though, why not spill the whole damn epistle.
You obviously know me well and finally through you,
I have met my birth parents it seems.
The all-knowing assholes who didn’t want me,
but want to be a part of the life they gave up.
I must have been adopted unknowingly, been living a lie till you set me free.
I guess I should try saying thank you, but it’s still filtration to me.
Your insecurities brew like bad coffee.
I turn up my nose and you can’t help but feel less,
so you lash out and I laugh out loud,
for strangers telling me who I am and ought to be
is always a welcome retreat.
I could tell you that you’re wrong, but what’s the fun in that?
I could tell you that you’re right, but who really cares?
I could tell you to shof op, but why not let you waste your breath?
You seek to read me like an open book,
so here are a few words from my prologue…
is going to be fun…
Be Kind and Share…