Back and Forth


Hear the music,
that fat lady sing a song,
of your demise,
for your end is nearing,
on true it all,
see it through.
A knife in your back,
so deep,
the humanity universe could feel it,
and could scream in pain,
or yell in happiness.
Forever how it is,
just as so,
you are a dick,
a boring dick,
that just never just shut the trap.
Meaning at times,
you are a suck up little bitch,
kissing the feet of higher ups,
just to rub it in later.
On facts of that,
I could be seen as the same,
but at least in sign of healing,
to get over it,
admit the problem of it.
Why not with you,
just become a bothering soul . . .
that just won’t shut up.
Take the warning,
and go places away from me,
far from me!
Before I do something I might regret,
for a day at best,
before just knowing,
I am free!
Hear that fat lady sing,
because it means,
your time is almost up!
You dumbass,
that runs on steam,
of things I don’t dare repeat back about.
You lowlife!
Your very being on this planet,
would be better without,
but no,
you just linger,
and linger!
An axe would be a better choice,
in your back,
rusted as well,
that could be places,
you don’t need.
Do the world the favor and be gone,
at the snap of my finger,
go away.
Even as tears fall down,
you are breaking,
falling apart as you should,
know your place,
and stay there!
Know better of who of you are!
You got a brain use it!
Even if you lay your head against the glass,
crying still,
unknowing the other face,
displeased of how you take this,
you are a weakling.
Can’t even look at your own reflect,
to know you did wrong,
that goes beyond the realm you,
just choose to stay in.
when in knowing,
you are far welcome,
take the blade of papa’s shaving blade,
and put them to go use . . .
wait what are you doing!
With that the glass breaks,
shards falling to the floor,
while the other’s breathes heavily,
trying to contain back,
of what was lost,
in soon patting feet from below reached level ground,
knocking at the door,
shouting out words of sadness,
and expectation that everything is all right.
At first there is a pause.
A taken breath to calm the body . . .
dropping the baseball bat to the ground . . .
walking over to the door . . .
unsure at first to open it,
but once hearing the pounding on the other side,
it is time to open the door.
Quickly adding out before another word is said.
Only saying;
that there was some unsaid talking that needed to be done,
before knowing soon,
if not taken care of,
being like the mirror,
was just a matter of time.
And that was something not to be wasted.




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