I’ve come across a dead man, walking out the door,
He carried a dagger and a plethora of common whores,
I tried to look away from the fire of his hair,
he appeared to be ginger, but name calling, i see, as unfair,
So, I smoked my foes with anger,
That I had withheld deep within my tomb,
I remained constricted, but my mind calculated individual doom,
I tend to be frightening when I look you in the eye,
I gaze straight through your forehead,
And the facets of your lie,
You’re killing yourself each moment you speak,
Artificial laughter is injected, because you know you’re snout is a beak,
Recalled the slander that danced across the lips,
Of silky sutures and tasteful bitch fits,
I am not saying that I ought to share my shimp,
But when it comes to your cerebrum,
You resemble a kid,
It’s cute, I like the way you try and try,
I cut off your head, that’s why you cried and cried,
But remember, I am kind-
For I sewed it back on,
But I did take your eyes to feed the pigeons in my lawn,
It’s not that bad to have a mind full of rubbish,
And it’s not that bad to be awkward and sluggish.
I’ll be here when you need me,
I’ll be here when you die-
I’ll be flicking you off from pew and waving goodbye.


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