Dont temme if i am wrong

The anarchist in my heart, buried deep, smiles as I imagine it in flames.

Now now, don’t get me wrong. Don’t let this be mistaken for your run of the mill, teenage angst ridden, flip the bird to the government because I write anarchy hearts on the wall of my body and I don’t like having to follow rules so I’ll scream for chaos instead.
No. I’m just covered in black and red sheets, that maybe one day, when higher education is freely given to all , single mothers aren’t struggling, kids don’t go home crying because they’re not the same weight as their classmates, there is no such thing as third world countries, the same choices in life are offered to all sexualities, a pregnant woman is given alternatives instead of damnation. . .

I shoudn't be standing for a president I know..
I probably have nothing to do... Nd my futility is taken to be the act of waiting.. And if it is so.. then yes i am waiting.. to see the next bunch of explosives.. fired in the air .. a car whoooshed in the sky.. and i lifted off my feet never to land again.. when every time I Light my cigarrete, it will be burning stereotypes .... in fuming hate.