Bullshit as a result of working 9-5

I stab this pen on this unsuspecting victim I call a piece of paper. It bleeds sensational insanity. I will not be sated and spent until The ink undulates articulate blood felt by the innocent bystanders Of wandering eyes. My words spell
V I C I O U S
I don't write lies (never cared to). I tear apart the ignorant with My brazen incisors, shredding their timid insides and misinformed mind Of the debauchery and bullshit that had once claimed vacancy of Their sorry lives. My strength is my honesty. Honestly this is what Keeps me going. I can never show weakness.
I refuse to stumble on this steady road I've paved. To crumble Would be a crime. (so I stifle my cries). Harsh reality is the lullaby That soothes me to sleep. It's the one thing I can't fight. I must Appease. My pleas hang on deaf eyes and blind ears. Despite My 'please' and 'thankyous' (That's not what people want to Hear.)
BIGGER BETTER NOW
Is the new hospitality. So much for soft reality. Morality is Nonexistent and the world is a glass menagerie. What a tragedy. I weep silently. I refuse to let anything seep into me and make Me
W E A K
It is through brutality that I am finally
A W A K E

I stab this pen on this unsuspecting piece of paper
Maybe if it were smart it would've known better
Than to leave itself out in the open
For someone to attack it