But go ahead.
Tell me all about it.
How you want to be a doctor with a giant house.
And how you'd help the poor if only you could (all the while smoking your two packs a day and dining out every lunch break from your job in the mall but it's okay because it's just temporary).
I don't believe you when you talk about your volunteer experience at the nursing home (because really it was community service to write off a ticket you got in high school when you were caught drunk past your curfew).
I don't believe you when you say anything at all.
But go ahead.
Tell me all about it.
How your daddy was a terrible man (so that's why you sleep with every guy who gives you attention).
You must feel so alone running up against 7 billion people (because if there is a God he clearly chose you to bear the world's worst trials and tribulations).
Speaking of God...
Oh, you went to Africa to build a church?
Those poor, helpless, sinful, tribal folk would have been damned to Hell without you (so go ahead and check off your good missionary deed of the year so you can make a payment toward your ticket into the pearly gates).
I don't believe a damned word that comes out of your mouth.
But go ahead.
Tell me all about it.
How you bought that one homeless man lunch (but only because you were with someone who could tag you in their Facebook status).
Your heart must be overflowing with love.
I don't believe a fucking word that moves past your lips.
Because each letter tumbling around in your throat is stained with societal standards and toxic judgement.
I see your lips moving, but I just can't trust a single idea as your own.
Because when it comes down to it even you know your ideas never belonged to you.
Are you tired yet?
If you are, then I'm ready to listen.
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