Like an art instillation by Tracey Emin, I don’t inspire neutrality,
As I navigate my way through the tepid waters of vacuous banality,
Demolishing the profound to a rubble of triviality,
Confusing unintelligibility with individuality,
Thinking that enervation is synonymous with vitality,
While the audience pray for an at-the-mic fatality,
Or, at the very least, a change of bloody rhyme scheme.