I wrote poetry quite often up until the age of 19 or so (when I got the fiction bug... or the keg party bug... or some such bug). My freshman year of college, I used to find it funny/cool to post the "Poem of the Week" on the front door of my room in the dormitories of SUNY Binghamton. One, called "Fuck the World," made it from my front door to a special place on my wall. It only caused me embarrassment once, when an enthusiastic tour guide caught me on the way back from the gym and asked if the group could see what a real "lived in dorm room" looks like. I recall standing in front of the poem so mothers and young children couldn't read this nihilistic screed.
The last couplet went something like:
His cheeks were rosy, gun in hand, as he sank to one knee
"Fuck the world!" he cried and shouted with glee