happy people write shitty poetry

they have no struggle
to call their own
unless having too much is a war to be waged

given greatness as a wedding gift

crying for the geese
tortured to make their pretty white comforters

befriending the fringe
murderers
rapists
writers
borrowing sorrow
to have something to write about

making time to correct the grammar of others
believing themselves entitled

all i can say is

some people forfeit their right to speak
due to the manner in which they live

i will bitch slap you in your garden of content

taking comfort in the fact that

happy people write shitty poetry