Critics


They say.
They say, I cant use my brain to relay my thoughts.
They say, I am on mute, away and lost.
They say, I am not astute, I was not taught.
On how to enunciate, and activate my brain waves to create poetry of the greats.

They say.
Voices constantly spraying negative and hurtful information.
Language regurgitation in a constant circulation of manipulation for consolation of their own situation.

They say, is the comments on Youtube pages, or viewed on Facebook, or drew on literal pages, or spewed in physical dissertations with cynical alliteration due to their college education.
It comes in all forms of communication, like advertisements on constant rotation or billboards in everyones faces.

They say constantly changes forms, always being reborn to be worn as horns to scorn and wound like thorns
But I just decided to grab it off my head, and with my right hand, drop it off the ledge, unable to tell of what came next.
Uncertain, I peeked over the edge and watched as It fell and gently nestled in a hedge.

Sadly, I bet that by next week it will be found by some unique boy who is week and sees something with mystique as a toy and as a crutch and believes it beautiful.
But this will lock this boy in a box, like a cubicle.
its just abusive, and not for me and my soul.

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