Young Writers Society

Teenage lobotomies,

Cute little fluffy bottoms.

I dreamt this up on my blanket of monotony,

And apparently this is what life has given me.

Why couldn't I have chosen the meme at least?

You know- the signal that I need to have a big fat feast,

On the weak. Because we all know I could do better than that.

***

But there's that clown in the streets,

Smiling at everyone she meets.

And for some reason, every single greet

She makes, what with her sweet

Smile, is a sweet fucking deal

And god, it makes me want to reel.

***

Seriously, every single stupid greeting

Of positivity she seems to be radiating

With so elegantly, somehow sweating

And trembling, but never revealing

Her dark depression, which she has built a cave from,

Allowing her emotions to torment her for eons to come

But- why the hell are her words so eloquent,

Even though I realise that subsequently,

I would end up doing much better than that.

***

Aww, she's swishing around with her fancy-looking hat,

Always rambling on about her chant or rant

About her depression, which she dresses up with a petticoat

And matching gloves specifically designed to torture others.

Which I find rather alluring; perhaps I should ask her out,

Though I suppose that is secretly illegal, by moral conduct

***

But one day, she greets me with a special smile,

One that makes me want to swim a mile

And tells me that all is ridicule,

And ridicule is fun,

So cut the crap with plagiarised puns,

And go and have some fucking fun.

***

Although my dream was to become a brilliant performer,

Who am I fooling? 

I'll ask the protesters for advice,

For they're not afraid of ridiculing the public once or twice-

Come on babe, I need your help,

Because I know I can do better than this.

***

Come on babe, I need your help,

For I'm lost on the shore of uncertainty,

And wading through the waters of tranquility-

Oh shut up! I'm not content with mere rebellion,

Which is precisely why I yearn for oblivion.

***

Except that, what I truly want, is to be humorous,

Intellectually humble; I need more phosphorous

For that. But I can do it,

And to hell with med school-

Personally, I don't think it looks cool.

I mean, helping people is nice,

But I guess protecting them from mental mice

Is nicer, and what happens if I couldn't give a fuck about anatomy?

I guess we're going back to those wretched lobotomies

***

Aww, she's swishing around with her fancy looking hat,

Always rambling on about some chant or rant

About her depression, which she dresses up with a petticoat

And matching gloves, specifically designed to sadden others,

Which I find rather alluring; perhaps I should blow her brains out,

Though I suppose that defies moral conduct.

***

Until one day, she greets me with a special smile,

One that makes me want to bawl a mile,

And tells me that all is ridicule, 

And ridicule is fun,

So cut the crap with plagiarised puns,

And go and have some fucking fun.

***

Aww, she's swishing around with her fancy looking hat,

Always rambling on about her chant or rant

About her depression, which she dresses up with a petticoat

And matching gloves, designed to inflict desire upon others.

Which I find rather alluring; perhaps I should go all out,

Though I suppose that is against social conduct...