better juice

stewing in my own juices in this dystopia of a nation masked thugs tearing brown babies from their mothers' arms raking the brown off the streets disappearing the inheritors of the kingdom idiots who believe in an ever-after there will be a time after masked thugs and mass terrorization evil visits the evil and payday isn't always Friday I can't wait to write a poem then but what will it be by then just a poke in your blind eye and better juice