Dear Politics

Dear Politics: fuck you.
You aren't what I thought, you're just what I knew.
You happen to be right but nobody moves,
I want a revolution tomorrow, with no blood and no tears,
And I want it to be over when it's over and I want it to be sorted,
And I want equality and I want it now,
And I want racism to be gone.
I'm Miss Right Now. I want world peace.

Dear Art: fuck you.
I want perfect expression, not expressive depression,
You can be so beautiful but fuck knows it's easy,
When did you become something anyone could do,
Without being accessible to me? To us? To the world?
I want art, I want art, I want fucking art,
I want a sunset explained to me and I want it there,
I swear I've had to wait twenty years for someone to show me a rainbow
On a canvas. So show me.
I'm Miss Right Now. I want world fucking peace.

Dear Science: fuck you.
You're clever and I don't want you to go,
Please don't leave, I'm sorry, but...
Why can't I live forever? Why are there diseases?
Why illness? Famine? Age? Poverty?
Destruction despair the need to go piss when I want to stay,
Why isn't there right here, why do people get fat,
Why can't I be strong by sitting on my ass?
Should I ask God? 'Cause I asked him (a prelude to this poem,
From when I was young and little and good)
And he was fucking useless.

Dear reality: fuck you.
It's hard being me.
Poor little me.
Trapped in you.
No matter how beautiful.
Signed,
- An angsty, optimistic idealist.