Poetry

The Fall, 19 (263.)

I found it in
a cup full of coffee,
a fist full of sugar,
a donut menagerie.
Afternoon snacks become
evening yacks,
as I’m drunk on sugar
and looking for relief.
I found it in
the sweet release of poison,
get it out of my system,
never let boys in.
Stay true to yourself;
don’t let them talk like that.
Who the fuck says
those words as insults?
Children, that’s who.
Children who don’t understand
the effects of their language.
Please don’t buy
them desserts again.
Don’t feed the animals.
Course-correct your friends.
Phobias, hatreds, negativities, the worst
of all the works you’ve seen in your life.
They can do better.
You can do better.
So rise.

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