Praise is the middle finger showing to your face
Enough is said to throw back at you a grenade
And spit on your remains to gently smile and say:
“Up yours, you worthless scumbag from the gutters”

What is your sign trying to say?
I’m sorry; I can’t read your writing
But then again, you can’t even spell.
I didn’t even want to start this
But you just made it so obvious;
Ignorance is your highest quality.
You push and push and push and push
Until the flames burst high in the air
And then wonder why war we declare.

Praise is anger erupting volcanic punches to your soul
Ripping your strengths and shredding them to ashes
So that there is nothing left of dignity and will to live
Just to justify violence as a need for self-defence.