deepundergroundpoetry.com
![Image for the poem What Conscience?](/images/uploads/poemimages/105159.jpg?1436964641)
What Conscience?
What are you going to do?
Stab me?
Get your tribe onto me?
Or beat me with a stick?
Or will you run from your problems like the little girl you are?
My body’s not perfect but yours is far from it
The scars that cover your stomach
The stretch marks on your body
or the cellulite on your thighs
or how about that you’re fat and you do nothing to change that.
I can’t believe I used to stand up for you, well someone had to do it
I made you who you are today
You’re a perfect replica of me, but not quite me
I have the controls
You’re just in the game
You are pathetic and you make me laugh
It’s bad enough when she wears those footy pants let alone you.
You wear something that fits
No one wants to see your chunky thighs hanging out
Stab me?
Get your tribe onto me?
Or beat me with a stick?
Or will you run from your problems like the little girl you are?
My body’s not perfect but yours is far from it
The scars that cover your stomach
The stretch marks on your body
or the cellulite on your thighs
or how about that you’re fat and you do nothing to change that.
I can’t believe I used to stand up for you, well someone had to do it
I made you who you are today
You’re a perfect replica of me, but not quite me
I have the controls
You’re just in the game
You are pathetic and you make me laugh
It’s bad enough when she wears those footy pants let alone you.
You wear something that fits
No one wants to see your chunky thighs hanging out
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