Heard the rustling of track pants,
It brings out agility I did not know.
Just to avoid the annoying rants,
I quickly shut and bolt the door.
The whining of my name begins,
And my hands itch to slap,
His face or break his shins,
But I pretend to take a nap.
He keeps banging at my door,
No choice but to let him in.
Spoilt ****** child to the core,
If I rid the world of him, is it a sin?
I dread to let him sit,
His *** will glue onto the spot.
I dream of throwing him in a pit,
And just leaving him there to rot.
The sadistic pleasure I feel,
When he is bestowing unto others,
With what I must everyday deal,
Like an unbreakable curse.