They do not seem to mean a single bloody thing
It’s all been quite, shall we take to saying fair barbaric
Especially He
We do loath to like him, very much indeed
Truth be said, cannot but
He struts in notoriously, problematically akin
The lifelong sinner, yet he just doesn’t even mean it
Shallow-faced, sticky-out ears of socially inept his
Just must make an upside-down difference
Do yourself, so much as damn well near all of us, a thickening favour
To treasure yourself first above all else – fraid to say Or Else…
Relinquish this cowardice fear of only yours
Other Side of things, it will all appear to me to be a mammoth waste of space aside lukewarm possibilities, preciously instigating a second-to-none Influence
I think that you do realise fully who you truly are
Before, then, You Fell like a mother fucking anal-retentive gesticulating mess
My father wholesomely smirks to jestily agree
You stressed me to press my wickerwords fixatingly against for now
-We were NEVER on any kind of a par by the way-
This is you, and, Yes, you did ask for this poem To Hone On In Altogether Acutely
Your parents should be oh so ashamed to be proud – just in my Opinion
