High on the ism’s.

I love my nation, so must you.
If you fail to prove-
I ll slit your throat and splash the blood,
Create ruckus and satiate thrust.

I am the mass, the one who decides.
The crowd that follows the malice.
I am the troll, that regulates.
The forecasting rage that celebrates.

None of you can resonate,
The dumb numbness of my own traits.
Attention seeker, phantom creature-
That’s just me, without my layer.

You cry foul, I laugh harder.
Throw some cussings and stare further.
You feed me with attention, I grow.
Don’t salute me yet, I am just unoccupied froth.


One thought on “High on the ism’s.

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