One wants six of one, or half dozen of the other
Because he'll cook a fine kettle of fish.
Fully aware he can't please everyone
For some see the grass is always greener on the other side.
So, he's busy, meets oneself coming and going,
And knows, come hell or high water,
That there's no time like the present.
Busy as a bee, one prepares the meal.
He's a book you can judge by the cover.
One quips, The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
I knew he'd say that.
One's words speak louder than actions.
One's enough to ******* the Pope.
Believe me, I have an axe to grind,
And I'm at my wit's end.
Better safe than sorry,
*Avoid one like the plague.

You clipped her wings so she would fall,
but she learned to fly without your voice
to soar into the atmosphere.

You were her morning and evening star,
the guiding lighthouse on the shore;
you were her adoration.

You didn't understand that she truly loved you,
how much of her heart she gave to you that you
trampled on and discarded for your own pleasure.

Now she's going to fly
grow
love
be free
while you're still in your chains
of heart games and misleading.

In short, she's always going to
**be better
than you...