Poem or Poooem?

A Vietnamese friend with whom I work with recently wrote this poem, and there’s a lot to like about it.

Poem or Poooem?

Hand at forehead and think;
Are we ought to say right of right,
Or what society thinks?
Damn this world while I have to scratch my butt to think.
The deepness of our rational can be stinks by the smell of virtuous of surrounding.

Fuck the culture if it uses its age to castigate me;
My intension sinks me awry from it.
How relaxing would it be, to be outcast and grab the course of change?
Looking at the boundary and utter;
Damn this butt of mine if all I have to do is to think.


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