Why must we
Be so well behaved?
I've seen
Many sides
Of you,
My darling
I know
You're trying
To have
Self-control
You're trying
But I can tell
You're lying
A quick glance
Tells me all
Your hands
Behind your back
Are now fists
You want more
Than this
Instead, you decide
To be a complete bore
Even having
The nerve
To comment
On the weather
If you want
To remain
All prim and proper
I suggest
You leave
Before I give you
The pleasure
Of pain.
l.v.s
A word generated poem