I will not credit the cards
stacked against me.
How could I allow those haters
to creep inside,
when there are other cards
gently placed far and wide
for all of us to cling to?
So go ahead and stack 'em up.
I'll just pick 'em up,
and pass 'em back to the moles
whilst I don my shit kickers.
Those do-gooders shouting God's words
from their holier-than-thou
dirty rat pulpits.
We'll have none of it.
They can scrub their lives
in directions that feed them best.
We'll journey the endless miles
enjoy the giggles, and wiggles,
and we'll smile in our vagrant dress.
We'll bask in colors unattained.
shine in spectral rays, unglazed,
un-phased by their vanity.
You and me.
We'll drop the Mic when our songs are sung,
and not a moment before.
Then we'll tread upon their cards
splayed and scattered
like little lost souls of spiteful haters,
flung about the floor.
Molly Roland is a writer by nature, and she enjoys stepping over the invisible lines society loves to draw.