What to write? Perhaps a poem in spite,
About those who make my anger ignite, these letters on white arranged in ways not polite.
A rhyme of hate of the not-so-great, to narrate what had left me irate,
About those who equate to the value of my ejaculate.
Those who steal, their intentions in conceal,
Had soon to reveal they are far from ideal, actions inconsiderate to how I feel.
Guys who spin webs of lies I despise, to cut all ties in hope they soon demise,
Just like with those who dramatise, overly criticise, those who do not empathise, to converse would be unwise.
Many of lass are a pain in my ass, but to her sass I give a pass,
For she lacks class, of little mass is pissed from WKD in a shot glass.
For those who use I do not excuse, my friendship you abuse just to amuse,
to you I accuse for my blues, obtuse and deserving of a noose.
He who had torment over the fact I might be a little bent, I vent and resent with my anger pent,
My confidence you had dent in your farmers accent, left me discontent but to me are worth not a cent, far from a gent to any extent.
I pray some are okay, that not all are like I portray so I give leeway,
In hope they do not betray, leaving me in dismay as they commit foul play on what could’ve been a nice day.