Disassemble preamble;

You talk too damn much.

And you’re enough of a handful,

Haven’t we heard `bout enough?

About your pitiful life.

And your bare-bones existence.

Been through enough strife,

We’d like a return of investment.

Well I’m not a stock.

Or a promise of profit.

And that soap box you’re on?

Might as well as get off it.

Cause you’re not a peach,

And as easy to live with

As you’d like to assume

From your pampered existence.

And I’m not a rose,

From thorns easily cut

And this impatience you’ve born?

You can shove it right up…






About Keats

Oh I'm sassy and I'm sexy, So silly sweet-and-sour Delightfully disastrous And deliciously dour I'm flippantly foolish, Filled I am with fear Can't concentrate completely, and my conduct isn't clear But to bravely be my best I Bring bravado back, BEHOLD!

5 responses »

  1. A painful burn by any other name…brought about by a deep cut indeed. It was potent before I knew the story to it. No person is a stock, an item, a thing–we are personalities, vibrant histories and banded emotions thrust together in a mask of flesh and blood and bone against the madness and the beauty of the world. A who. Never an it.

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