Everything I’ve ever done
Has been half arsed,
Ill considered, not thought through;
First option taken,
Erred to waken
To see it through as fruit
Would do.
Next stop optioned,
Pissed girl took;
Never saw the things that
Could’ve used a second look.
And here I am,
Untrained, unskilled,
Passing myself off as a wordsmith,
Without a quill;
Spitting at a bit I spat out that
Devout technicians might have rounded
To a mission;
Spilling syllables that
With a little time
Could have been rhymed
More visually.
And to think I thought
I once rebelled against this
Underwhelming pit stop;
Once propped apostles like me
Against the future walls of revolutionaires
Once produced a manifesto
In my own coloured book.
Once fucked for free.
I once believed to
Live the life
I now just write about.
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