Turn to page thirteen. Skip the blessing. Mark your name in ash, And read the footnotes first. First commandment: lie with style, Walk five miles just to stay in denial. Second: if it itches, scratch, But never ask what’s under the latch. Third says shout when silence calls, Write your truths on bathroom stalls. Fourth: trust no maps or clocks— Time runs backwards in paradox. The Book of Bad Instructions — Burn each page before it’s read. The Book of Bad Instructions — Learn to live like the misled. The Book of Bad Instructions — What’s true was never said. Fifth rule: trade your soul for spark, Name your fears and walk them in the dark. Sixth: kneel not to gods or kings— They wrote the rules, but not the strings. The Book of Bad Instructions — Scratch the ink until it bleeds. The Book of Bad Instructions — None get what they think they need. They bound it in skin and broke its spine. Buried it under false design. But you read it anyway. Didn’t you? The Book! (Burn it!) Of Bad! (Learn it!) Instructions! (Turn it!) Page by page— You’ll never leave the cage.
