Who Or What Is It
I don’t know who you are but I think I hate you for this;
I’ve spent my whole life asking why;
Why does it have to be like this?
I think it might be you; but why.
I mean I know it’s your nature;
You apparently chose to mess with the power that is;
But why do you have to be here where we’re all at?
I think we’ve been paying since the beginning of time.
I hate you for it;
I hate the whole idea;
How is this fair?
Life isn’t fair; that must be it.
Religion says strive to be fair;
Society tells us work on being fair;
Meanwhile it is advised I keep my enemy close;
It’s not only unfair but it’s not nice.
Ah speaking of nice;
From what I can tell;
The one thing I know about nice is;
Nice is having a bowel movement
I guess I’m to ask for forgiveness;
But forgive me if life has a constipating effect
And oh that smell; the smell of it surrounds you;
Oh did I make a boo-boo no that is a boo boo.
I was a pacifist once; a long time ago;
Everybody picked on me; everywhere I went;
It was embarrassing not to stand up for myself;
So what; I’m not supposed to be angry now and want to fight?
Ok I’m not supposed to hate;
But it’s real hard to be happy;
And if I had any chance at all;
I’d call your punk ass out.
Copyright © Leonard Taormina | Year Posted 2008
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