OH, YOU’RE ALL SO FUCKING OPPRESSED, AREN’T YOU (A POEM)

I hear the grumbling rising up from the street
But as it reaches my ears it slowly changes its tune
to the whiiiiiine of
a baby or a starving mosquito
We hear of ‘emergency measures’ being taken
and your first question is:
What does it forbid you that you were formerly permitted?
You say something won’t work,
that’s it’s a waste of space
and an infringement upon your rights
But what I hear through all your cold and venomous logic is
“I didn’t know I had these rights until YOU tried to take them away
but now I want them back
you fucking fascist”

I guess you don’t care whether it has the slightest chance
of making you safer
if it means you’re restricted from doing
something you used to be able to do
I never understood how your mechanism
of perennial pessimism works
but I begin to find that it works in me as well
Going along to get along sounds like a mighty mean thing
to suggest to anyone
but is it too much to ask that you shut the fuck up?
Because I’m tired of hearing you
complain about what a police state we’re turning into
Do me a favor:
Go live in a REAL police state for fifteen weeks
and then come back, if they let you come back
and tell us what a fucking paradise they have over there

You are turning “America” into a dirty word
and for that I will not forgive you.

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