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Pushy Mother F*cker
Copyright © 2013 Erika Whitmore
We doin’ this or not?
And - you can keep your ******* venom, Dude
Is that really all you got?
You lodge your disgust and hate
Like an acid punctuation
Contort your face and raise your voice?
I smile at your frustration
I grow weary at the thought of you
And tire of your pathetic jabs
It’s been eons since I said we’re through
I won’t be your punching bag
You try to walk the line and
And bide your time
And play both ends against the middle
But you better know that I’m at my prime
So, your “tactics” matter little.
I’ll take the blame
And all your “spew”
You’re so predictable it’s lame
Around we go, in circles now
But your ******* remains the same
So, get your head out of your ***
And take a look around --
You sadly think your **** don’t stink
But, like gas, I’ll have to pass
Before I’m knee deep in your brown
Your arrogant, condescending tone
Is driving me insane
So, I just hope
For your sake that you’re prepared
…‘Cause it’s about to rain!
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