Pen It Down

My Dystopian Guitar

Cars tearing up asphalt,

And that stray digging into the bin;

A noisy neighbor dropping the salt,

That gamer cheering at his own win,

I hate it all.

Mom calling for breakfast,

And Dad for the newspaper;

Friends asking me to hold fast,

While they cheat off my paper,

I hate it all.

The strumming of my guitar

Is the only sound I love.

All I want is a life of peace,

But all you have is malice.