If I didn’t know better
I’d assume she wanted the pain
She keeps grabbing the hot ***
By anything but the handle
She uses her finger to put out the candle
Melted wax
Dries on her hands
Leaving it’s fake skin behind
And she picks it off
Complains about it
And repeats it every time
She wears flip flops in the snow
Complains her feet are cold
She refuses to freeze any leftovers
And ******* when they get mold
It’s hard to be around her
Her game is getting old
Her friends are looking at their hands
And thinking they should fold