To all the foolish bamboozled who still dwell here,
Do pack up and leave, you aren't welcomed except peers?/.
Effortlessly obvious to see your prying,
To further on questioning and in denying.
Do not insult if not for unforseen consequences,
I don't need to be mean but we can offend your appearance.
For it is apparent of your obtuseness,
That verses you read are not fully comprehended.
Until the day when a friend of mine questions,
When it is clear that I'm scary due to a choice of preference.
How could living things be so dim?
The right answer is they ask of curiosity and not of caring!
Shall I put this in simpler words?
The choice of Gothic poetry you cannot fully understand,
This choice of preference your dense mind misunderstands.
Just because I think of Death and you chose the Light,
To follow in banal trends you think you're right.
What is different might be that you become indistinct,
Where you premediated to result in just another living thing.
It is hilarious in a way you take the time to scroll,
Right into the previous year and try to seek my soul.
Again I shall state that these are thoughts and they are not acted out,
What dreary people do to stay in our social status of normality!
Defeating insults never get you far,
This lackluster form of self-loathe to self-consolation gives me a good laugh.
Of course consistency to 'indulging' in texts proves to be a diffidence,
And your form of lackadaisical brings you to failure for cadence.
Between you and I, it is evident why you'd think me as the mugger.
Oh God, what a dim-witted thought!
Blame it on your own slapdash term of efforts.
You do not sacrifice adequately for what you want,
Laissez-faire and leave you the sitting duck.
And this verse dedicates itself to any schmuck.
He often dreamt as the villian.
He often wish the impossible.
She habitually disguises as the Julian.
She habitually hides the probable.
My parents do not appreciate results.
My J2 friends are leaving soon and of course they should, happily.
My closest friend might leave for Poly.
I can't even understand what I should be feeling for now.
And certainly, the hidden do not need to be stated.
What else could I ask for when this is all there is to Life?
These inane atrocities of living just bores me.
