Super Rich Kids.

Children raising themselves are the reason why sex sells, why petulance has become pedestrian and synonymous with prepubescence.  Parents that refuse to instill values or morals in their offspring, quickly reveal that they are the reason their children are dressed for the season but insipid and boring.  These babies are having babies, and only then do their parents wonder what the Hell they did wrong, as if nine months were the only indication they had for their list of discrepancies which was several sorry pages long.  Exposed to more skin during the day than exists in some pornography, influenced to lose more weight in the hopes of being told by complete strangers whether they are just plain or pretty.  Accepting challenges to pour alcohol into their own eyes or successfully inhaling and regurgitating condoms on their first try, I would blame it on their parents but they are nowhere in sight, enslaved by money as they model the behaviour that is eventually accepted as right.  In comparison, reality television appears to be overflowing with class, as the real housewives seem more scrupulous than these parents that refuse to teach their children how to last.  Suicides attempted from insults strewn on the internet, these kids, though in a rush to be adults, are so easily, irreversibly upset.  Confidence could have conquered their consideration of others' cruel critiques, as immeasurable insecurities immediately invalidate everything that they believed.  Devoid of the ability to rise above or see beyond, sticks, stones and especially words can easily break their fragile bonds.  Darwin held onto claims that only the fittest would survive yet somehow these devolved beings made it out alive.  If the future of the world rests in hands that are too preoccupied with their phones, mankind as we know it will die, replaced by derailing dial tones.

Possession.

Vulnerable and so open, suddenly more susceptible to choking.  Love and its possession are much worse than any demon, as they leave one feeling more powerless and devoid of hope than the most Godless heathens.  Shaken awake from my slumber, I have always been the problem and never the cure yet somehow I still manage to attract beauty in forms that are the most pure.  You say I lack ambition, that my bark is bigger than my bite although I retort by adding this to your list of superstitions and fears of creatures that go bump in the night.  I am a force to be reckoned with, always blessed with whatever it is my heart desires though it seems to only chase the things that guarantee to set it on fire.  Unafraid of being alone, in fact I thrive when I am on my own yet my fear of abandonment prevents me from ruling my kingdom from a lonely throne.  This king of sorrow at his best could leave even the eternally optimistic feeling depressed and then bereft.  I acquire all that I admire then watch woefully as it slowly begins to expire, instead of strengthening my foundation, I neglect it instead then fail to feign surprise when it, like everything else, flat-lines then is dead.  Dead on arrival, dead as a door, desensitized to death now that I have been here before.  Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, never shocked by the promise that things will indeed rust.  Conditioned to die are all things we adore, so it is always best to remember their impermanence before they, too, are washed ashore.  We naively assume that everything is built to last like the Titanic and other relics from our past which are here in an instant then taken so fast, so it is with all the things that we love, we should count our blessings before push comes to shove.

Human.

With each day I  take for granted, I vow to appreciate the next, blessed with the opportunity to once again look, feel and strive to be my best.  With my feet firmly planted, my morals no one can test, as I have been granted another day to conquer the world and put my limits to the test.  Some may call me an idealist though I am as real as they come, as I refuse to succumb to the notion that we must all acquiesce to society's rules that really only just make us boring and numb.  I can paint my own destiny, I am the master of my domain, though my moods and momentum may change in an instant, I am grateful that they change at all, as my indecision shows I'm living, and still standing despite my many falls.  Others' attempts to understand me often leave them more perplexed than when they began, I am an anomaly and I will not be defined or categorized by any other man.  A human being not one doing, I live and let live just as well yet I am still often the myth and then the legend that cowards and commoners attempt to dispel.  The subject and the predicate that illiterates will never know how to spell, I have won your game of thrones; I am the king of Winterfell.  Subjugated for far too long, I refuse to remain the victim of your abuse; either endure me or ignore me, your decision is your prerogative, I will not sit idly by waiting for you to choose.  You no longer hold the noose that tightens around my neck, no longer own the signature that validates my cheques.  My strength lies in my resilience, eternal proverbial phoenix rising from the ashes that I am, this is where you remind me of why your approval is even worth a damn.  Some have dubbed me the devil incarnate for I refuse to let anyone in, through the barricades I peer out through from inside my glass house made of equal sin.  You claim that I am worse than you and even with my ego subdued I cannot accept something so absurd as the final word, I have much more to offer the world as it is my oyster and I, its pearl.

War Crime.

In Berlin, you lost my concentration as you sent me to a camp, your vendetta more wicked than anything else under the sun.  I felt so atomic, as you took me to Hiroshima then Nagasaki, blowing me up from the inside out just for fun.  Your contempt for me unfounded, as I had only wished you well until you acquired a warrant to persecute me, you will pay for your sins eternally damned in Hell.  My strength restored, it's nuclear until you light a match so I explode; I would even live in Chernobyl just to show you that you are loathed.  Your holy war doused me with gasoline then attempted to burn me alive, as you misinterpreted the word and justified your actions with lies.  Neither tribal councils nor grand juries can take away my heart, try with all their might, they will never tear my world apart.  My honour stolen like women of war that pray for their lives to end, you toyed with my sanity, it was all pretend.  You only attacked at night, your cowardice could never be concealed, your attempt to rob me of my sight was when your evil was truly revealed.  I am through with lashing out or attempting to make you accept your wrongs, but disappointed with myself instead for trusting you all along.  Chased me from my own village, forced to leave the life I worked so hard to make behind, as I reach for the front page every day praying you will finally be tried for your war crimes.  My second tower hit by another lazy attempt of yours to dethrone me, whether suicide mission or not, you were our relationship's Kony.  Now you threaten me with missiles that failed to deploy but don't exist, your papa would surely preach about your disservice to the Iron Fist. My confidence was the greatest casualty of your genocide that targeted me, I only had to learn to trust again but you will forever be a menace to society.