To the masses
Mind the losses
To the broken
Mind the mended
The careful the careless the unwanted and the
Just too fucking fucked.
Do you think I expect you to know how to read? No. I expect nothing, assume nothing, want nothing from those existing in the mass of the unaware who do so out of so called social obligations that exist amongst conformity.
To the loving the loveless
The damaged fucked up toys mommy and daddy ever gave you. You were just too ungrateful to see their worth, beauty is what you make of it.
I lay looking at the scars the mistakes the ruined bite marks stained into my skin by filthy greedy mouths, the tares into my soul by hungry heartless vultures and say...
Praise be, because these stains taught me culture, the tares inside my soul...teach me that vulnerability is my greatest strength and a Master's most joyous weapon.
Praise be to the moments where I lay staring at the past torments and find peace that I wasn't bred by a woman but raised by Man's word. Absolution.
To the weary the wondering the wonderful and the damned souls pissing on rainbows.
Know that rainbows come back, your skin still glitters, no matter what scars of the past dance tormenting you inside your mind.
Peace exists if you create it.
Make what you will of wordless worth, but feel the intent of charisma on crack~
Sometimes poetry that spits is poetry that spills lovingly devotion that only other helpless fools catch