You foolish bastard, so envious of us
Bitter and frustrated, nursing your wounded pride.
You are nothing to my beloved
You hope that your selfish actions would be rewarded
But you only serve to scar my beloved in body, mind and spirit
At that very juncture you pester them ceaselessly, in hopes of recognition
Your words, your declarations of love and adoration are forever meaningless
You disgusting swine.
YOU ARE READING
Mephisto's Anthology
Poetrya collection of old poems written by a younger version of myself I stumbled upon these recently and felt like Putting them out there. And I've been adding more to the collection whenever inspiration strikes They aren't properly punctuated Or writte...
