More of a rant than a poem. I can’t even remember why I was so angry now.
21: 14
I hate people.
I hate their fake concern,
their indignant nature,
thoughtless justifications
and self-righteous excuses.
No one is more important
or more deserving
or as hard-done by
as a person forced
to do more than
they want.
They look and find
someone to
blame,
push,
condescend
until all is right
in their world again.
Who cares about
the other,
their life is good
again, nothing
is more important.
Leave them there
to bleed.
Scribbled Thoughts 