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WAY TOO MUCH & MANY MORE (poetical rant anthem) - POEM 001

Does he like me or my body or both | We have way too many options | Suddenly he puts himself into me and later on, when he´s gone I receive this txt | YOU ARE NOT MY TYPE
I sqeeze every possible wickedness into word cascades on WhatsApp.WhatsApp has become the middle man between my emotions and the need to express Myself. My Thoughts. My Emotions. Live & direct has been replaced by I-read-it-when-I-get-the-chance to.
Communication has become vulnerable and complicating. WhatsApp doesn´t empower me. It makes me a victim of constant misunderstanding and misinterpretations. I have to explain myself and  re-explain myself and I am tired like an old tree having seen too much.
My emotions want to retire from the rollercoaster rides these boys and girls put me through.
Fuck! Gimme something new! I am done with the old shit. The repetition of old patterns. Old beats. New school going back to the roots. Art has lost its soul.  Art has become the international playground for narcissists celebrating their egos. Art needs to have mass appeal and make cash to be considered good.
Art has become a bitch.And her pimps are mad rich.
Have the boys of today still not learnt from the mistakes and the misbehaviours of their fathers?
Have we women not gone through enough pain to finally put a full-stop to every abuse they use to make us useful. This shit retarded.

How many more therapy sessions do we have to book before we fully embrace ourselves and practise selflove?


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