By Nullus
You! All dolled up in your fancy suits, Mocking our faith and tradition, Sharing ironic hot takes, I don’t need your permission! Fuck you! You! Acting like you have power, All you do is flail your hands, You’re an empty balloon, Creating imaginary plans. Fuck you! They won’t let you into the club, Who are you trying to kid? No one cares and you know it, Your words are their bid. Go fuck yourself! Real men admit their mistakes, It’s our fault these pussies rule, We let them tell us what to do. Now we’re sick of being played the fool. Fuck you! You haven’t come home with blackened calloused palms that take days to clean. Your hands are soft, your body is weak, and your soul is obscene. Shut the fuck up! Nobody ever gave us handouts; we worked ourselves to the bone. Our legacy is our commitment; we are what we own. So fuck off! I want something to believe, I want a reason to fight. I want to preserve my honor and dignity. I want what’s mine by right. Every day is a battle, Every moment a war. You never felt this, Because of your rotten core. © Nullus 2021