Author’s Note

A little therapy in verse. Some swear words, some rage, and a whole lot of “I need a swear jar for life.” Proceed if you like your poetry honest, angry, and hilarious.

Swear Jar
Poetry by Rowan Evans

A dollar in the jar for every “fuck,”
And here we go, I’m out of luck.
Because abusers make my blood boil,
Manipulative bastards who revel in toil.

“Shit!” There goes another buck,
For the pricks who gaslight and leave hearts stuck.
Twisting minds until they’re broken,
Leaving scars with lies unspoken.

The ones who cheat, the lying snakes,
Who shatter trust for their own sakes.
“Goddamn,” I shout, as I slam the lid,
Another dollar for the shit they did.

To the cowards who bruise with fists or words,
Making love feel like it’s for the birds.
“Bastards,” I mutter, reaching for cash,
For every asshole who leaves hearts in the trash.

“Fuckers!” Another curse flies free,
Because love shouldn’t mean captivity.
“Son of a bitch,” I spit, as the jar grows heavy,
For the pain they cause, relentless and steady.

“Shitheads,” I add, slamming down two more,
For the manipulators who keep settling the score.
Another “fuck” for the narcissists’ art,
Tearing apart someone’s whole damn heart.

“Damn it all,” I shout, the jar now full,
But they piss me off, those selfish fools.
By the end of this poem, here’s the count:
Thirty-four curses—what a fucking amount.

If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]