The appeal of blissful escape cries out loud,
Comforting darkness thickly surrounds,
Like a velvety soft hug, squeezing firm,
My place in space, thoroughly confirmed.
They think it is a method to survive the day,
We know it is a death grip, taking us away,
Yearning to fall into the happy abyss,
To the unknown irresponsible place of bliss.
But that place is for the losers who can’t get a grip,
Any ounce of pressure easily makes them slip,
They kick and scream and make their fall known,
Their drama shows us that they have never truly grown.
We don’t need to stare at them to see who they are,
Their actions speaks so loud, so ugly, so bizarre.
Who are they to plead and beg, to say their life stinks,
When they are the ones who mess up everything.
They are sloppy and careless, heartless without shame,
Ruthless and soulless, they play the people’s game.
Name-calling, blame-ladling, purging their emotions,
Taking a dump on others, their formula, their magic potion.
Playing the administration role, forgetting who they are,
They rose to the top, now they will just fall hard,
And you and I don’t need to make that happen,
Their words and behaviors will trigger that action.
There is a way to this world, call it karma if you must,
somehow it makes all of this evolve and go bust,
And we, hiding in our comfort place,
Get to save face,