in the combined dust

of the trust we place

on the virtually realised

may be misplaced?

my body’s made of stuff,

feels quite rough,

“..like unbaked steak..”

“..all sinew and mistakes..”

it doesn’t work right,

so when it creates

it’s a miracle I state,

while everyone else ignores it.

“..poor little snowflake..”

“..can’t lead a country..”

“..you’re a fake!.”

“..imposture syndrome I bet..”

“..e.r.g’s little pet..”

sure it’s political,

sounds like an excuse to blame others,

never take the hit,

existence is better when fit,

“..let the losers die in their shit..”

“..nothing to do with me..”

can’t you see?

the world is shit “..cuz ya made it..”

in being unique,

we lost our physique

to slave owners

with stars on their tummies.

© Copyright 2022 InkeyString