My Expressionistic Self Poem by John Filip Pettersson

Some days the world's just out to get you
A cold blue sky, shuving sunlight in my face
Packs of fuming roes, littered with parsit infested
rabits, keeps vomiting butterflyes. A forrest of
insolation keeps the stale air thick with the bird screch
siamaes twins of diffrent sex joined at the mouth

There might not be a cure but a breeze will give ease.
A gush of wind to move in clouds and deck the butterflies
Birds and rabbits for meat. I'll leave the roses in peace
them i can't eat and neither the the twobobyed heads.
How does my paradise sound? Nay people do not frown,
what makes your ways better then mine.

Love worshipers beware, you laugh and you snear
know that your blind, the world don't cover your sorry behinds
I bid my time soon socitey will come crubeling down.
Then there I will stand with a sign in my hand
Greating the lost flock, point and mock, finally
I pervailed or at least so did My expressionistic self