Does it not irk you -
To have your cotton skin, greased
And muddy. Contradict me not!
For I know you were raised better than this.
Your pater should have done a better job,
Your mother left him empty headed?
Not!
I'm sure he was present, when she wiped your
Arses, powdered those cheeks. Made-
You wear a bowtie and you
A skirt. Your hair has turned
To shambles.

Please not those around you.
Live by your mother's
Wish, will.
Show some respect.
Or have you none?
Were you not raised with such?
Does it not irk you,
That you degrade
Her with such poor representation?

Go repent,
You have disgraced;
Degraded, made your mother
Mourn. Her wishes
Were shunned.
Your pater just the same.
He should know better,
Teach you better,
Mould you into her insoles.