What would I like?
Rage, encompasses me like a drug
Entering the vein, keeping me askew
Such a question, how dare he even ask
If I wanted it, I would have gotten it myself

I have no need for him
The object of my distain
Need not apply, do not pass go
Do not collect, will not
He will not trap me
with glass jewels
or painted rocks

The way is clear, ill will
twisted desires
They say a poet
wears her heart
on her sleeve
But is immune
To others minds

I will show this silly fool
the error of his way
Not even a glance
Nor blink
his way

Look at him, so pathetic; his way
always trying, he thinks he can save
Its me, not him, who has to save
Not his job, he doesn't know
I bait him, cut his dreams
He is a nothing, ant
lost his chance

But oiled his might
a boiled snack
Maybe on the side
Such a wasted little man
I eat him up,
Spit out
his remians

Such a bitter taste
So long ago
I learned
The waste
when it was a meal