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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Emotional · #1181358
Basically, this is a poem about minimum wage work
You force your values, your rules, and you fickle laws down our throats;
Yet, you are surprised by the warm pool of vomit it produces.
You have the face of a saint, meshed with the eyes of a liar.
Your words run through me like poison,
Collapsing my insides as the seconds tick away.
Burning my time with your selfish expectations.
We slave away, merely to fill our mouths,
while you fill your pockets with the product of our sweat, our tears, and our wasted days.
You are buying our happiness from us for a pitiful price.
You disgust me--you fuck me--you don't trust me.
I hate you--I love you--I'd kill for you.
The bitter content I hold does not compare to your promises,
the promises you will never make good on.
I hate the person you want me to be,
You will never, never compare to me,
I am the product of your blind authority.
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