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