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Wrong Is My Name


Wrong
is my
name

Wrong is my name, they tell me I’m always,
sometimes I even believe them – not really!
I’m joyful in being, although I get angry,
I get nihilistic and wish that I wasn’t.
They call out my name when they don’t like what I say,
we can never agree,
so they yell out my name and get louder.
I say my name to them,
which angers them more,
they slam thick wooden doors,
doors I have graffitied with large dark red crosses,
‘expressing my self’
like a cliché.
When people think I’ve gone too far,
they’ll tell me about it,
but I usually ignore their vices expressed as their virtues.
I answer many questions, they all call out “you’re Wrong!”
with which I reply, “of course I am
you stupid morons,
Wrong is my name, nice to delete you!

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