I Found My Thrill

Upon Psychopath Hill
Everyone is unholy
They all have a laugh, fill
Their sticky pockets from the til
Is nothing sacred anymore
Just as much as it was before
All the people became items on some
Congressional Bill
Law
Aww
So good for the top
Too bad for the bottom and
Everyone inbetween
Hid behind the smoke screen
They openly chug that swill
Everyone is unholy
They all have a laugh, fill
Upon Psychopath Hill



Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Written on 2025-12-27 at 22:24

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