Your morally-apposed prose astounds the bros.
They can’t seem to find a reason why you wouldn’t have feelings,
least of all, to write them down and share them with an audience.
You’re banging up against a day-old bruise,
expecting me to be fully healed.

In this post-past, pre-future society,
we believe that people should accept us, flaws and all,
pig-Latin swearing,
toe-stubbing,
hopelessly flawed us.
I am a staunch believer in not believing.
My brain is easily warped,
I’m young and impressionable.
One day in the computer lab, a friend in 1st grade told me that my teeth looked yellow.
I haven’t stopped brushing since.
I don’t believe in blind acceptance.
Looks do not equate to the brain underneath.
Let me judge you through what comes out of your mouth
and despise you then if you haven’t formed the same opinions as me. 

I am morals-adjacent. 
I will do what’s right until no one is looking,
then easier comes first.