Times have made me a little bitter, I must say.
My own temperament causes me great dismay.

Now, while I'm aware my poetry is elementary,
It triumphs what you'd muster in a century.
'Best friends' long enough for it to be convenient,
Then decide you're too cool for some odd reason.
See me on Halloween, go the opposite direction,
When I ask you why, you laugh at my 'misconception.'
I confront you with truth; you dismiss it as rumor,
You're a cancer anyway, thank God I removed the tumor.

Well, hey, you know it all, right? What can I tell you?
Except to take a bath, you **** -- everybody can smell you.
See, I've lost friends before, but with you I won't bother.
At least I'm not dirt poor and I live with my father.

While you seem very troubled and your tone is solemn,
I still miss the part where that is my problem.