Do those words describe you feathered thing?
I say "thing" when I look at you,
It's sick to think you have a hue,
When you should be black.
Trembling baby, did someone hurt you?
Well, too bad,
Throw it back,
Grab a hold of things and move on,
I'll be out the door,
Say "so long".
There is nothing I like about you,
There is nothing you can do,
To make me like you.
Don't like what I'm saying?
Well fuck off and grow some wings,
Fly away from these terrible things,
You think it's so bad?
Well, grab a hold of things and move on.
Why don't you rip your eyes out,
Burn them till they're ash,
Maybe then you won't have to see the "bad stuff",
You whiney ass.
You still think it's rough?
Grab a hold of things and move on.
A/N: This is an experimental poem.
Warning: Staring at this poem for too long could cause loss of eyesight over time. Thank you.