Future Planning

Do you think this is a fucking joke?
What gave you the right to dictate my actions?
Does age quantify empathy?
Or does it destroy it?
Because you have little of it left.
Did it ever occur to your precious little beady mind that I CARE?
That I can make my own decisions?
I’m not a child anymore.
No I’m not.
I haven’t been for a long time,
No matter how hard you try to convince others that I don’t understand.
You have no authority over me,
Not even the power I gave you.
You can sit on your stupid hill blathering with the like-minded,
Looking down on me like I’m less than nothing.
Like I’m not even worth the fight.
Like I’m not even worth the thought.
This is my life.
My fucking FUTURE.
Don’t tell me sugar-wrapped lies.
I can hear the venom over the crinkle of the paper.
It’s hidden in the ink,
Waiting for me to lower my guard.
It will snap me in a trap,
Just like you fucking planned.
And you wonder why I reject you.
Revolt against you.
You do not represent me.
You do not speak for me.
You live in a realm of deceit and false promises,
And you wonder why nothing ever gets done.

Future Planning

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