They Fuss It To Be Cut Up Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Some just can't let it be!
With a letting go.
They want to beat it to then leave it.
Come back,
To again...
Service it with lip.
As if 'whatever' it is...
Exists in their minds,
Breathes...
As if it lives.

They cuss it to be cut up.
They fuss it to be cut up.

People aren't grateful to receive a gift.
Or appreciate it without examining the value of it.

They cuss it to be cut up.
They fuss it to be cut up.

Whining without restraint!

They cuss it to be cut up.
They fuss it to be cut up.

Complaining and showing no shame.

They cuss it to be cut up.
They fuss it to be cut up.

Some just can't let it be!
With a letting go.
They want to beat it to then leave it.
Come back,
To again...
Service it with lip.
As if 'whatever' it is...
Exists in their minds,
Breathes...
As if it lives.

They cuss it to be cut up.
People are bold.
They fuss it to be cut up.
People are cold.

Whining without restraint!

They cuss it to be cut up.
People are bold.
They fuss it to be cut up.
People are cold.

Complaining and showing no shame.

They cuss it to be cut up.
People are bold.
They fuss it to be cut up.
People are cold.

They cuss it to be cut up.
People are bold.
They fuss it to be cut up.
People are cold.

Whining without restraint.
And complaining having no shame.
They...
Cuss it to be cut up.
People are bold.
Fussing with a cutting up.
People are cold.