Spastic Teenage Monkey Poetry Written By Black Candlelight At 4:30 In The Morning While Suffering From Nauseating Depression And Loss Of Appetite

My shoes don't fit right
As I sit here contamplating the impossibility of my own existence
And it hurts
They mock me when I speak the hidden truths of my soul
Those pervert minions of the capatalist, nationalist, militant white opressive machine that crushes all free will and free thought
Maybe listening to the gleeful screams of the aborted Jell-O fetuses will ease the pain I feel
In my struggle against all rationale to stay the whiny, angst ridden person I am
You glance at me
As we traverse the corridor of inner stupidity
And I say to you
"Who cares if none of these words rhyme?"