Breakfast with the stares;
my bowl of cereal was extra cold
Killing all of the time in a crowed room;
a pretty enough serial killer
I milked up all of my tears,
drawing out the words to admit I was fed up
And quite full of myself, feeding up on all
of your food for thought

Sorry darling, call me a little selfish
for wanting every last bite of you
A man; as all men tend to be dogs;
still keeping his heart later on in a doggy bag
Thinking way too forward as always;
let me try and take it a little back- ******* perhaps?

But why such a line would deserve a chance
at your hand; is really just a possibility of a slap
Whit! Okay I felt that one for showing this kind of whit,
so please do call me an ***, for sounding like I'm
trying to get some ***