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Salon of Poetry for Critique - Four
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Poem Number 316
You really piss me off (not you! the critical one)
In real life, I would avoid you like the plague
Sit back to watch you isolate and destroy yourself
Here at IPP there is no choice but to endure
The peanut rambling of your diseased brain
One day you'll have nothing to say, not even to yourself
The vacuity of your emply soul will suck you away
HOORAY ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Commentary:
Ya, I am tired of him/ her, too. People like that should be quiet and learn from the world around them.
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Is this not the salon for high critique?
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For critique of poetry. Not of personalities. IPP has been ruined by cruel talentless assholes.
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