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Call it what you will.

Oh, no one seeks a partner with a beautiful mind.

It is all beautiful bodies and *****

A girl with no other options seems to be what I'll find,

and it really makes me sick.

 

I could paint a picture of serenity and love

in a vast and epic view.

I seem to have none of the above

and I want you to have mine too.

 

Call me bitter.

Call me jealous.

Call me what you will.

 

None seem to understand what I am getting at,

but hopefully soon you will.

 

Let me take you back a decade or so.

A young, fat, spotty faced teen

thinks one day he will sometime know

love and *** through another person instead of sticky magazines.

 

He wastes his time looking for another soul

for years upon years until he is no longer a boy.

His short, wide ***** finally finds a hole

and it brings him great joy.

 

He thought *** was great hoping to do it again,

although for a while it didn't much to his chagrin.

He caves in and spends money on ill gotten ******

sadly he he gets bored and quickly finds it to be a filthy chore.

 

At his wits end, suicidal and sad

wanting nothing but a woman's love,

things were looking bad

until something came out of the darkness, an angel from above.

 

She was young and beautiful,

he could not deny.

The good times were bountiful

and he never told a lie.

 

He was happy and angst free for around 8 months

but the angel was a traitor and he was a putz.

A drunken ******** with no remorse.

The end had come and run the course.

 

Call it sad

Call it tragic

Call it what you will

 

I now understand it

and I hope you do too.

 

Now he travels this barren sea

of bros and hos and endless stupidity

with no hope, no cares,

no *** and no love.

 

Wishing he could do something with another

instead of hate.

He needs a new lover.

He needs a new mate.

 

**** he shouts with a frog in his throat,

"Why can't I be happy while everyone gloats?"

In is defense, life isn't quite fair

to those without muscles and dye in their hair.

 

And now all he does is silently weep,

listen to Elliott Smith, and shout in his sleep.

 

Call him an emo

Call him a loser

Call him what you will.

 

The moral is for you to quit being arrogant and judgmental, slutty and stupid.

There are men and women out there who wish they could.

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Written by
david-walker
American
Published
Nov 27, 2013
Lines·Words
61·435
Permission

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