(Dark and) Colorful Language

I turn to writing whenever I want to be cruel.

A tip I learned years ago, back in grade school.

I couldn't hit anyone as a stupid school rule,

So I turned to my book where I could ridicule.

 

But what I write isn't important.

No, that tends to get boring.

It's what I say that paints a portrait,

And helps me stay away from the fork of Morton.

 

That's where poetry comes in.

With it, I've learned to spin

My words so that I don't sin,

But instead end everything with a grin.

 

"Mierda" used to be my go-to word of choice.

They didn't understand, which tended to annoy,

But their confusion helped me rejoice

Because they didn't know what came from my voice.

 

The more I write poetry, the more my range grows.

It's like playing chess with those who don't know

That it's simple for me to knock them down like dominoes.

Oh, the roles could switch with them crying out their woes.

 

I'm afraid the point has been lost, as I digress.

Poetry has taught me how to suppress

My negative thoughts so I don't make a mess.

And its success in lowering my stress shows my progress.

 

As a result, when I have something mean to say,

I always try to think of it in more colorful ways.

Yeah, I could show a full display of my dismay,

Or I could think positive and have a good day.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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