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poket full of posers
its back,
sleezing its way back on to my path
I loathe it
Bows and arrows arched back aimed
I turn my heavily attacked hind
and let another its target find
I loathe it
the apprehension superceedes comprehension
the power it doesnt have over me
it refuses to realize
it wont die
it wont kill its self
it wont lax the chase
i loathe it
tiresome game
peak-a-boo
guess who?
cut it down to size
burned its bridges twice
the bordom superceeds the wrath
yet it still rolls the dice
I did not take it,
it came to me.
it is not mine
never will be.
an everloving host
prone to boast
entertaining it's ghost
the idea superceeds the fact
peak-a-boo
guess who?
cut it down to size.
