Thank You Papa John or New Way to Hate Myself

I don’t like your pizza,

I never did.

But I am a fatass,

I always was.

Large with sausage I guess,

instant regret.

Garlic butter crustmare?

Anstunt ragerts.

So thank you Papa John,

seriously.

My ass always beckoned

to grow and blow

From your shitty pizza.

Now I’ll say no.

I should have said it sooner.

Masochism.

Self harm, I’m a cutter,

I just use food.

And your shitty slices

did hurt so good.

I’ll have to find other

fat ways to slice

myself open in pain,

Those lactose blades.

Yeah, your shitty pizza

did slice so deep.

But your dumb racist ass?

You weird old creep…

Diabetes looming,

for we fat souls,

The slices for slices

to take our toes.

It’s the devil we choose,

And so it goes.

But next time I’ll order,

from Dominoes.

[Critique 1] (https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/92bq2f/firewalkers/e37fk35/?context=0)

[Critique 2] (https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/9224bg/america_a_protest_poem/e35m9lt/?context=0)