back on my bullshit - shitty poetry part 2

look who crashed his own funeral
standin in the back
eatin all of the good hor d'oeuvres
middle finger raised to hell's security cameras

I'm bulletproof baby
well more like...
duct taped extensively
and surprisinly functional

my demons called a meetin
to discuss my recent performance
they're concerned I lack commitment
to our five year plan of self destruction

the same hellfire that burned me down
now makes excellent mood lightin
for my after pity party
where I dance on my own ashes

the daily doom committee
keeps gettin outnumbered
by this stubborn asshole
who refuses to follow the rules

back on my bullshit
the kind that makes obituary writers
ask for deadline extensions
the kind that has my past self
slow clappin from the shadows

bulletproof? nah
but I'm learnin to bounce back
with fuckin style