Russell’s criticizing eyes were with him
The day he was born, but his anger wasn’t.
Blame it to luck,
Russel grew up from an upper-middle class
Family, but being the only son,
his mother raised him like a king.
he learned from his mother one thing:
ANGER!
Is the way for one to gain power.
He feels that his parents owns him too much,
For he is such a superior human being.
And it is his lost!
To be born in a family built up by that
Cheap
Slut
Mother, and that moron he calls Dad.
Russell was not a bad student in school;
He gets good grades, enough said.
But he detests grades; it is built for the
Hypocritical idiots.
Russell can’t be the same; he studied for the praises,
The admiration,
And the Jealousy,
From the inferior,
And the low lives.
(Just as a warthog enjoys mud bath,
He enjoys the taste of being the target of jealousy.
The dirtier things were,
The happier he was.)
Never did Russell have a real friendship,
And never did he realize it.
Sincerity was missing
Ever since his mother farted him out of her womb.
Nor did he ever get infatuated with the inferior sex.
Girlfriends were trophies.
Relationships were the price he had to pay.
The only guy he ever love was
himself
(And perhaps he loved his father)
The world for Russell,
It owns him too much.
He can’t kill everybody,
But he can certainly hate them.
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