T(hank) Y(ou) for the L(ove) Y(ous)

people that don't have the faculty 

to survive, you grant them amnesty 

and ability

loving them for their modesty

and their novelty

but shaming them for developing through puberty 

and sexuality

​

it complicates the reality

you set up and the identity

you whisper with gravity

their will to have dignity

and respect-

​

fully I have to be honestly

unnerved by your intellecutality

as you say with closed mouths confessionally

that they don't have the will-

​

fully indignantly

will to survive statistically 

in the wild, foundationally

and optimistically

​

as if you don't have a clue realistically

of what it takes to go through predominantly

classist natures and mentally ill stigmas that mischievously

pop themselves up as occasionally

you're inconvenienced by my inadmissably 

honest and indecently

taken words, questionably 

you hazard a guess to my unseasonably

unreasonably 

short skirt

​

but I face adversity,

and uncharacteristically

I speak up, open my mouth and effectively

tell you off, you're momentarily

disturbed, as if I'm not really determinedly

stepping forward saying fuck you to your standardly

white fenced and pool in the back yard nose

​

that you raise up accordingly

having been forwardly 

and necessarily 

exposed for your indisputably

intolerant ability

to raise yourself up for your natural heredity

and birth that you converse factually  

with your local PTA predujicedly 

​

your popularity 

on the throne excellently

and easily 

recognizable from my regrettably 

and depressively

low place of poverty

and I step back hopefully

my eyes sharpened pointlessly

and I throw my hands up at the vanity 

of your sarcastically

laughable place of humanity 

and charitably 

misplaced morality 

because you'll never know 

what it means to 

survive.

​

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