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The Great Subtraction

Kids in cages.
A Poem.

45 is smaller than 0.

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I’m going to flip the shit if they crack another motherfucking whip
Can’t handle it when I can’t spit
Rambling blazed for days
Holding a fucking clip
Shit stays the same way
It’s making me sick
Staring down barrels drunk
Like we’re outta luck
In stasis sterile faces that won’t quit
Cages mistake small kids
Taken away
They can’t be seen
It seems history repeats it’s scenes
Screams don’t stop the suit’s schemes
We should be ashamed
Turn the cheek and sneak away
Cell phone in hand
Selfies behind screens
Eyes on ‘em like laser beams
Hit record on that cam
Life the video game
It’s our mask while we hide in the dark
We’re Batman
All going insane
Yelling the same phrases night and day
No response
It’s like that
No one listens and things don’t change
Deranged, we keep playing the same way
Won’t fight back
Maybe someone brave will stand and save the day
But every time we call the hero someone ends up shot
It’ll happen until we’re down to zero
The Great Subtraction in action
This extinction event is meant so we can’t repent
When the end comes through
The end meant for those that won’t do
What they want us to do
The way they want us to
That’s just for me and you

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Hell

Living in this infamous informal institute,

Feeling insulted, having to induce identity onto the inflexible.

Impatiently await the impending impediment.

Immerging from an impaled death is the impact of imperceptible imperfection.

Watch as they indulge interminably.

They leave intervals resulting from incomprehensible self-interest,

Letting interiors die of intoxication.

They introduce their lives to death,

Inviting others to share their indistinct pain and invincible misery.

This image imagined is an insignificant, infinitesimal imitation of the impoverish life innocent eyes have seen.

All of this is improper.

I act on impulse to call this an inarticulate hell.

This is life.

 

By Jack Thomas

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