I could sit my *** down
and write a hundred ******* poems
and not even touch on the subject of *******
or I could write an ode to the obscene
and here it praised as beauty
call me cocky
but you haven't seen it yet
humility tastes like vegetables
and I've never had time for 'em
give me a felt tip
and I'll make you smile, laugh, cry, and come
within four minutes
and I'll write those cutsie ******* poems
that make your older sisters say
awwwwww
like a text from a girl
saying hey
with about a million y's and ten emoticons
you like me
I don't know why
maybe it's maybeline
or maybe it's the keystrokes
stroking your ego
while I throw mine in the laundry
I wasn't raised to be bragger
but I wasn't raised not to be
wasn't raised to stop and see
the people smelling roses
or striking different poses
my smile is like similes
my method is a metaphor
my ***** soon is spilling on the bathroom floor
take this braggadocio
and put it in your back pocket
I don't need it anymore
and I don't want it