Hell Fire
Stomp them into the ground.
They're nothing but vocal cord and tongue.
Small minded little glass pricks
Getting off by causing misery and chaos.
Some people cannot be taught.
They're born to seed mayhem.
Mentally defectives they are.
Wouldn't mind if someone slayed them.
You cannot meet whirling fists with love.
You have to greet them with hell fire.
Just light the wick and blast them off.
Smack those glass punks in the mouth.
Let them taste their own blood …for once.
Then declare it a universal holiday.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment