Shall I convey to thee all the reasons I’m mad?
Shall I put into words those moments I rage
And things all of which I wish I could say
To those who piss me off?

If forced to, I will,
Not concealing what I feel,
Not even pausing to censor words out.
For “what makes me tick”
Is what you have asked
And is behind the followings I recall.

Cable TV, oh, how it riles me up,
Seventy-five channels of which most are corrupt,
Desensitizing youth towards murder and pain
And encouraging heists for monetary gain.

Stigmatization of the mentally ill,
Now that’s a big thing that really chars my grill.
Name-calling and disbelief in the problems of the mind.
It’s assaultive, you see, spewing such crude lies.

As far as manners go,
Do NOT smack in my ear!
Chew with your freaking mouth closed
Or I’ll physically make you, “dear”.

Another big thing that always grinds my gears
Is when to another’s circumstance one is insincere.
Everyone has their own walls to climb
And being courteous is well worth the time.

Now I want to be a psychologist someday,
To help the world’s children stand taller each day,
But I have a certain quality that some say contradict my wish:
I hate doing things for people.
That makes me tick.

I can’t stand it when a person adds on to a sneeze.
It’s not f-ing necessary to add that stupid “HEEEE!”
Just quit it, you just scared the living hell out of me!
Every time you sneeze, in my pants I almost pee.

I have one more thing to say to the world.
“Get your head out of your ass!
You all make me want to hurl!"