"ozzy" poems
I am a nerd:
* DnD
* Harry Potter
* Lord of the Rings
* WoW
* Anime
* Reading
* Video Games
* Comic book heroes
* Science
* Math
* Hunger games
* Steampunk
* Disney!!!
* Futurama
* Star Wars
* Doctor Who
* Breaking Bad
* Archer
* 90's Cartoons
* Invader Zim
I am a Metal head \m/
* Nightwish
* Sabaton
* Ozzy Osbourne
* Iron Maiden
* Epica
* Van Canto
* Dealian
* Hammerfall
* DragonForce
I love my life:
* My love
* My family
* My Job as a preschool teacher
* having fun
This is who I am and I don't care if any one thinks of me!
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
*did i tell you about that orca (killer whale)
that killed a killer white (shark)?
yeah, flipped him on the stomach
inducing a conscious sleeping position
of the shark, belly up... the ****** orca
drowned the shark.*
dear daffodils counting to only sixteen
springs, why blossom why bloom so soon?
lemmy was part of something better
than his solo project... no one really talks
'bout his solo crazy train antics,
so why talk lemmy why talk ozzy os' burn
and simply dismiss hawkwind & black sabbath?
oh -
*na kraju nocy i u progu dnia
kogut na dachu pieje
w głowie sie kręci
da na da na da
gorączka znów szaleje.*
given all that, imagine a seal on a drift of ice,
a stowaway of a berg,
then imagine why, it's seeking a monastery,
there are four orcas beneath the mirror surface
of the water, in formation, like horses
to the gallop of a wind's flute eolides,
and they're moving in, dipping with tail
fin exertion of some reflex spasm -
and the mini tsunami created suddenly
tilts the seal's monastery and the seal plops
into the depths... where it's only an old
cloth rag soon to be mince.
p.s. i denounce the polish diacritical mark
over o to make u (ó) as not diacritical at all...
it's an aesthetic mark, and yes, it does look pretty.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 5:47 AM UTC
Green chain fence on either side
Concrete path for bikes to glide
Rapids churning far below
****** Bridge is were we'd go
Spray can pictures on its span
'Ozzy' spelt in mangled plaid
'Iron Maiden' painted red
To ****** Bridge and then to bed
Tired laughing, crying fits
Flashing censored body bits
Gladiator crayfish fights
****** Bridge on summer nights
On this bridge all kids would go
To feel the sun and swim below
Now it stands all alone
To ****** Bridge I'll always know
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 12:21 AM UTC
Dad had dragons in his cigarette smoke,
and hummed to dog tags jingling like wind chimes.
Mom has excuses titled “college textbooks”,
and burned her problems over the kitchen sink.
The war ended, dragons went extinct
and the class of 03’ moved on.
Now I christen the silence with Ozzy era Sabbath,
and fill the empty beds with perishables
to rot with me in the teenage years.
You strangle me with your eyes,
and I sweep our past under the bed.
My heart wanders from room to room.
The prisoners of war jump out the windows,
falling like the day’s hundred follicles.
The parachute men die at the hands of their lovers,
with slurs as theirs last words.
I spend dim lit days waiting for the permanent
to change its mind to temporary.
I wait a year to exhale,
I wait two to heal,
and I wait many more for you.
All because I’m scared by the thought of things expiring,
but my greatest fear is to be alone with the rotting.
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 8:27 PM UTC
God had a plan for man
but the angels messed it up
because one was clumsy
and knocked or' Gods coffee cup
they tried to dry it with their wings
but that just made it worse
smuding all the writing
making the Lord God curse
the diagrams were ruined
the commandments down to ten
and the varied forms he'd thought of
reduced to mere men
All night the angels worked on it
trying to put it right
but somehow it looked quite different
in the early dawning light
Thou shall not eat chocolate
nor adorn they nails with paint
no woman would adhere to these
but only find them quaint
Thou shall not drink beer
or liquer made from fruit
nor will you dance on tables
in just your birthday suit
God read them and went crazy
his beard burst into flames
are you all taking the ****
I like to see **** dames
Ive got such plans for rhinos
but the only horn I plan
is the one ive given freely
to each and every man
Now go away and try again
in fact just go away
except for you dear Lucifer
I'd like for you to stay
tell me again that dream you had
no not the bombs and guns
the one about the **** films
where he takes her up the ..
What is it Jesus
can thou not see I'm busy
you've done what to the water
By Me this stuff is fizzy
a nice side line in fizzy wine
that tastes like ripened fig
the Jews are gonna love you
and in Rome you will be big
** hum it's time to turn it in
The sabbath at last here
and Ozzy wakes the neighbours
if he doesn't get his beer
So angels take a final note
I don't want any wars or death
but the only angel listening
was an angel quite stone deaf
so God got no ****** that night
and the **** just went to waste
till Lucufer and Judas came
as got smashed off their face.
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 10:27 AM UTC
Ozzy Oz is the Wizard if Oz,
a wee girl told me beacause because!
Over the rainbow and Toe-Toe too!
And the Tinny man wants to play with you.
When you're 2 it's so much fun,
watch it ten times, never be done.
Poor old Mum, poor old Dad,
at least when it's on She will never be sad!
Jan 9, 2011
Jan 9, 2011 at 1:44 PM UTC
Old crippled man, charcoal burnt and ashen,
a thousand days debauchery molded you in this fashion.
Haggard and stiff, you can barely walk across the stage--
no one ever thought that you would make it to this age.
Your girth has expanded (although it’s covered well),
but still your piercing voice summons demons up from hell.
Not as strong as it was once, but eerie just the same,
calling those who’ve followed you, who now chant your name,
to assemble in our legions, gathered in this shrine,
where we repeat the catechism, in throbbing metered rhymes.
Are you a madman? Or just a troubadour
who lends melodic shimmer to verses dark and dour.
Whose singing slides and skims along the edge of sanity,
but who never surrendered to the true evil of vanity.
Recovered from drunken, dissolute despair,
to call the faithful masses back, never mind the wear and tear--
to plod the journey of your craft, to sing before the crowd
whose loyalty, to your band, forever is avowed.
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 4:21 PM UTC
**** the f... communists
if there is anyone f... left
**** the f... capitalists
at least it's going to be a f... mass ******
**** the f… politicians
**** the f… priests
**** the f… pirates
**** the f… presidents
**** the f… French
**** the f… mujahedins
**** the f… terrorists
**** your f… stylish youth
**** the f… classical sentences like f… the Police
F… the Police
**** the f… Police
**** your f… self
**** the f… sun
**** the f… Damien Hirst
**** the f… moon
**** the f… Warhols
even dead and then again
for every f… 15 minutes!
**** your f… life and **** your f… death
**** the f… lesbians and the f… gays too
**** the f… Beethoven’s f… music
**** all the f... families
**** the f… lies
**** the f… truth
**** the f… God
**** the f… Devil
**** the f… carrots and the f… *******
**** the f… punks!
**** f… everything and everyone
**** the f... stars on earth and in the f... sky
**** the f... TV and the f... TV hosts
**** the f… ******
**** the f… Jews
**** the f… Christians
**** the f… poets
**** the f… pets
**** the f… children
**** the f… laws and the f… lawns
**** your f… hope and f… guts
**** every f… creature on this f… planet
**** the f… planet
**** the f… DNA and all of the f… stem cells
**** the f… techno and the f… folk music now!
**** the f… DJ and f… Ozzy
**** the f… Americans
**** the f… vegetarian and every f… hippie
**** the f… meat eaters too
**** the f… humour
**** for the f… God’s sake and mine
**** the f… zeitgeist
**** the f… good and the f... bad behaviour
**** the f… Buddha and the f… Buddhism
**** my f… ****
**** the f… Justin Biebers f… **** too
**** every f… ****** ****** dead or alive
Dig up every f... dead Ku Klux Clan member
and **** them f… again and again
**** your f… good taste
Your f… self-righteous thinking
Your f… good morals
Your f… delicate philosophical views
**** every f… thing I forgot to f… mention
**** the f… you
F… you all
F… You!
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 7:06 AM UTC
Ozzy or my uncle Ozzie
some say his name was misspelled and wrote down as Osiah I don't think it was an accident at all
Osiah means the expression of number 7
He was the Seventh Son
Of a 7th generation
Born with a veil of skin over his face
this is a caul, a veil...his glistening hood
He was born almost all Native American
He was able to play seven instruments without ever being taught
Violin, Fiddle, harmonica, ***** guitar, banjo & the mandolin.
There are a lot of mystical qualities associated with 7
The seven deadly sins
Seven days in a week
Seven colors of a rainbow
Seven notes in the diatonic scale
7 circles to form the symbol of the seed of life
The opposite sides of a dice always equal 7
The Seven Dwarfs
In Japan there are seven lucky gods
There are seven continents
Seven Brides for Seven Brothers
We are able to identify seven objects immediately without needing to count them
Hindu wedding celebrate 7 walk around the fire 7 times
While the priest says his Mantra and then they take seven steps and say vows
together 7 times
The Big Dipper has seven stars
Seven dials in London is an intersection
Of 7 streets with a sundial in its Center
7 is the smallest number that gives you 1
there are Seven Wonders of the Ancient World
I am sorry that you were so misunderstood Osiah
I don't believe that you were lazy
you just saw everything in a different way and it all was a little too much for you
your heart was weak and you left so young
You were a kind and uncomplicated soul
I so wish I had known you better I was just a girl
You looked so much like my Father
so Native American ...our history
He spent much of his time alone with his instruments
Many might have seen his life is sad but I don't think it was he won a lot of fiddle and violin contests
though none of those instruments exist anymore or his trophies
gone with his caul
and the clippings of his first hair
A lot of things I don't understand about numbers I see certain ones all the time
7 is not my number but I remember to keep looking they're here for a reason
I guess I will just keep looking
watching
learning
hoping
praying
I have a call too.
Cherie Nolan © 2016
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 10:38 AM UTC
I remember that when I was young
A bunch of Insects taught me All I Need,
The Walrus showed me my Imagination,
And a couple Stones gave me Satisfaction.
Three Idiots Held My Heart Like a Grenade,
And Thnks go to a cartoon for giving a band its name.
My good friend Jimi led me through the Haze,
And the words of a Pie dropped me into a maze.
Old Blue Eyes was with Apollo when it Flew to the Moon,
And the Cops sang of a set of colored Eyes too.
Now, lets not forget those old composers,
And the Sweet Children who filled our Guns with Roses.
The King of Rock said Only Fools Rush In,
The Queen said Champions Fight ‘Til The End
The Prince played his guitar like a god,
And the Jester’s voice was a little odd.
Those surfer Boys sang about Vibrations,
While the Lizard King expressed his Fiery intentions.
Mr. White was always there to set the mood,
And Mr. Brown explained how to Feel Good.
Ms. Franklin taught me how to spell,
Mrs. Robinson got me out of hell,
Ms. Perry’s figure was like a Dream,
And Mrs. Ross still reins Supreme.
One blind man sang of his home in Georgia,
And another was Superstitious.
A guy named Ozzy served as my conductor
As I looked out at the Smoke on the Water.
Michael danced like no one else,
And Kurt rebelled against life itself.
Cocker left the stage with nothing left to give,
And it was music that taught me how to live.
Oct 17, 2011
Oct 17, 2011 at 3:14 PM UTC
As Ozzy once put it in his Black Sabbath song 'Children of the Grave'-
"you must be brave...
or you children of today (the world)
are the children of the grave..."
consider me burnt
the embers of the sky
an ashtray in your heart
the curls of smoke behind your lips
the darkness in your eyes
the lightning in the clouds
the skeletons lost to time
a lonely corpse
left to rot
like the children of the light
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 1:42 PM UTC
I'm the handprint you find placed on a door window in a horror film
Trying to run away and get out
The lights flicker like my thoughts
Like all the imaginary things I bought
Of scenarios that never happened
Of what should of
And what didn't
I'm not brain dead
But I'm barely undead
I'm a morbid painting with hidden doves
Open the cage, I'll show you
What I really am
Madness tightened with sanity
My thinking process is a silent rocking chair
Spooky like Batman's lair
I never really liked bats
I'm still trying to figure out why Ozzy Osbourne bit into one
That's the king of darkness right there
My favorite card is the king
Because everyone deserves to feel like one
I'm a king plumetting in my own approval ratings
Because she should of been my queen
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 2:35 AM UTC
I look at my face
And for the first time I relies
Just what's happening
Th girl I use to be
Is no longer there
She is now
Gone
The girl I am now
Just wants to go home
But what is home to her
We'll not the best awnser
It's the *** smoke in the air
The cigarets all around
A lighter that's missing for the 47 th time
Cats and a dog with 8 bunnies
All named
Home is a daddy working
A mom staying home who isn't to good at that
A brother in the garage
Me at school
Watching over my brother
Always asking why
It's getting up in the middle of the night
To go say daddy check the house please
It's the birthdays that have passed
It's the un know love thro a brother and a sister
It's all the silent times
The nights of no sleep
Home is with my dog lady
It's with my brother OZZY
My sister who always come and go
It's the stupid and idiotic moments
The ideals the turn out bad when they sound great
And the music blasting
Attending church 3 days out of 7
That's home
But most of all home is love of a family
I miss you all
R.I.P chad
I miss u mom and brother
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 9:36 PM UTC
If you look past all the people, you can see that there’s a ghost.
He sneaks around Manhattan, and he lightens all our loads.
We can hop onto the Crazy Train and holler, “All aboard!”
We tried to rock like Ozzy, but we missed too many chords.
I’ve met some saviors who have made me feel just so at home,
But when day breaks, they slip away, and I’m alone.
Five hundred new guitars
Won’t hide your battle scars.
All I can do is tell you the words you wanna hear,
Have another beer,
You’re not a martyr, dear.
Lions are just glorified house cats.
There’s not a drop of water, but it rains here all the time.
The sun comes every day, but it’s darkness that it shines.
Understand that I am broken and my heart’s too cold to touch.
You’re not all that different, dear. You smile way too much.
There are a hundred thousand reasons why a house is not a home.
So when day breaks, we slip away to be alone.
Dance with me for a while,
Foxtrot is not in style,
But we’re in ball gowns anyway, so
I’m too young, but I can drive,
So that you can ride
Shotgun in my dad’s Mercedes Benz.
Traipsing the sidewalk,
Making some small talk with yourself,
Time is wasted,
Love is tainted,
And the sun waits for you.
Cities are pretty rough,
Towns aren’t good enough,
Tell me exactly why you wanna run away,
Because when day breaks,
I’ll sing a song you used to know.
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 6:41 PM UTC
When Ozzy Osborne died,
The **** store workers didn’t care.
They said, go get your green ******* hippie,
Get out of my hair.
I said isn’t he your savior,
Prince of darkness don’t they say?
He said I told you once already?
Go the hell away
Jul 22, 2025
Jul 22, 2025 at 5:43 PM UTC
In this life there is rhythm and blues
every body has to pay their dues,
so find your solace where you can,
cause in then end, your just human.
Shotgun blast from the speakers,
the bass hits hard this song a keeper
guitar and drums lay out a groove,
lets everyone get up and move.
Harmonica starts sounding, like a train,
clack, clack, of tracks and whistle insane
music and tunes, in my simple brain
rhythm and flow keeps me sane.
The spark of my engine plugs
start a never ending feed
***** meds, and drugs
not just a bit always exceed.
Shotgun blast from the speakers,
the bass hits hard this song a keeper
guitar and drums lay out a groove,
lets everyone get up and move.
*** and lies as the music plays
in one place I never stay
riding on Ozzy's train, crazee,
I got problems just like Jay-z.
Shotgun blast from the speakers,
the bass hits hard this song a keeper
guitar and drums lay out a groove,
lets everyone get up and move.
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 2:12 PM UTC
I'm living on an endless road
around the world for rock and roll.
Sometimes it feels so tough
but I still ain't had enough.
I keep saying that it's getting too much
but I know I'm a liar!
Feeling all right in the noise and the light
but that's what lights my fire!
Hellraiser, in the thunder and heat!
Hellraiser, rock you back in your seat!
Hellraiser, and I'll make it come true!
Hellraiser, I'll put a spell on you!
Walking out on another stage,
another town, another place.
Sometimes I don't feel right,
nerves wound up too **** tight!
People keep telling me
it's bad for my health,
but kicking back don't make it!
Out of control,
I play the ultimate role!
But, that's what lights my fire!
Hellraiser, in the thunder and heat!
Hellraiser, rock you back in your seat!
Hellraiser, and I'll make it come true!
Hellraiser, I'll put a spell on you!
I'm living on an endless road
around the world for rock and roll!
Sometimes it feels so tough,
but I still ain't had enough!
Feeling all right
in the noise and the light,
but that's what lights my fire!
Hellraiser, in the thunder and heat!
Hellraiser, rock you back in your seat!
Hellraiser, and I'll make it come true!
Hellraiser, I'll put a spell on you!
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 6:50 PM UTC
I shared a beer and sympathy with a gnarled, obsolete man
Whose wizened visage spoke of unwise choices.
He spoke wistfully (though apropos of nothing) of an abandoned diner
Near the terminus of a truncated and decommissioned road,
Its parking lot an unhappy armistice
Of cracked tarmac and scrub grasses,
The building still sporting caricatures of the proprietors
(The artist a devotee of the Bob’s Big Boy school)
Though time had robbed them of the odd eyeball,
And a shoulder or elbow had faded surreptitiously into the background.
Much of a large sign remained as well,
Appearing to be nothing less
Than some leviathan’s abandoned crossword puzzle,
Fairly shouting “THE B ST DA N STE K
BETW N SYR C SE AND OT T WAOR Y UR MON Y B CK!”
Nothing else remained, my companion intimated,
Save the odd abandoned farmhouse and vestigial fields,
With long unmended barbed-wire fences doing their level best
To contain the ghosts of bygone and unlamented cows.
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 9:52 AM UTC
Fly high like a kamikaze, let them die like holocaust bodies
I'll pause here for my applause, freeze, paparazzi
Please please, it was just one line geeze.
**** zombies, a group of three headed east threw the trees.
Dismember and claim the head like that bat that versed Ozzy
Eyes born In Oz but the lion I see
Isn't a coward, just understands he lacks immortality
He's not like the gods of Greece,
Demi at best even within his own reality..
A rapidly expanding galaxy that disagrees to the third degree
Happily just standing by to see the miss-belief,
Absurd deceased in a herd two clicks east
Disbelief before his eyes, a planet that's diseased
Earth, the planet of the beasts
Earth, the world that has no peace,
Unable to sin, how would you when
The dead freely roam the streets
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 12:38 AM UTC
Ozzy Stillborn, croak your dirge
The fire's still a-blazin'
Drown out the crickles and crackles
The tickles and tackles of tongues red with fire
An image so amazin'
You can't get it out of your head
Dirge or chant, the choice is yours
Sing or hum, nobody cares
Sing of the absence of motion
A song celebrating decay
or the Life, the Truth, the Way
A song to motivate and get us going on our way
A musical composition done in the style of one
Ozzy Stillborn
Careful ladies, his shoulders weigh heavy
Hoist the static girth then hoist him into his bed
Let's see how long it takes for him to clear his sleepy head
Assume the position around him, arms akimbo, jocko ****
The calibration will needs be performed by sadists and nuns
From the local population of same we were blessed to return with seven sadists and a whopping twelve nuns
The calibration, followed by the celebration of the calibration
Will concentrate on the irate segment of the population unhappy with
The lack of education his infatuation with off campus shenanigans
Denigrated and deteriorated him
He must be validated
This is the point and purpose of the calibration
Although it is often noted that the celebration of the calibration is considerably less sure of it's vocation
Dec 10, 2018
Dec 10, 2018 at 11:25 PM UTC
Soon after nibbling pumpkin pie,
I felt terribly amiss,
where death be not proud
did scythe lance me
never came to bring
bliss, well nigh,
thus hour writhing with torturous pain
awoke wish to lie with permanent rigor
mortis supine without an intestate
for meager pose Hessions this guy
attests, which scarce material goods,
one would immediately espy
little stock dis
due dill ling dad doth not deign
deliberately displaying no deny
ill asper being non
materialistic, not wanting aye asseverate
next of kin burden
some task to decry.
As per thee above mentioned
immediate grippe of jabbing
abdominal agony did not wane
for extended period of time,
which sudden devout
praying Holy Scott twas in vane
where that this ordinarily
spry body of mine
sought zilch ambition
tubby vaunted or urbane,
but these lovely bag of bones
felt fragile as if
one to many fruit loops taken
on Ozzy Osborne's ): crazy train
plagued with waves
of gastrointestinal agony
i.e. severe cramps dizziness
nauseousness, and re
pulsed with aversion
to air, don, or trumpet
a swan song, sans of this aged jilted
(once shy twice burned)
once besotted handsome swain
hobbled thus unable to ride
my high horse weathering a ****** reign
of terror reducing me to hash out,
this ridiculous juvenile refrain.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 4:05 PM UTC
Preacher sees in black and white
So preacher sees he’s right
Justified by God’s light
To judge on sight
Preacher says secular music is evil
Not meant for holy people
He’s not even talking about Slayer
Or Jay-Z rapping about being a player
He uses Led Zeppelin as an example
When more relevant options are ample
My musical taste is trampled
Like some shameful scandal
He tells me not to listen to Crazy Train
So I think he has a lazy brain
That didn’t listen to what Ozzy was saying
That song wasn’t about foxy ladies
Or boxing babies
Or buying a Mercedes
Just diagnosing the rabies
Of a species in training
If I don’t listen
How can I help?
It sounds like a mission
To focus on myself
Instead of pain that is felt
By those who have welts
That kind of life seems reductive and boring
When outside it’s storming
And everyone ignores me
The music is God performing
Just for me
Preacher wants to delete
The musical elite
Until only gospel plays on repeat
At that point I’ll take a seat
Saying that’s neat
But I’m looking for more
Like opinions on war
And the dominion formed
Through judgmental scorns
That leaves our culture torn
The church is a microcosm of society
With the preacher dictating propriety
Saying ignore the secular entirely
To not live so direly
I found the divide between the secular and religious
When both take their culture to an extent prodigious
They start acting vicious
Once they’re comfortable in their niches
May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 9:54 PM UTC
Old crippled man, charcoal burnt and ashen,
a thousand days debauchery molded you in this fashion.
Haggard and stiff, you can barely walk across the stage--
no one ever thought that you would make it to this age.
Your girth has expanded (although it’s covered well),
but still your piercing voice summons demons up from hell.
Not as strong as it was once, but eerie just the same,
calling those who’ve followed you, who now chant your name,
to assemble in our legions, gathered in this shrine,
where we repeat the catechism, in throbbing metered rhymes.
Are you a madman? Or just a troubadour
who lends melodic shimmer to verses dark and dour.
Whose singing slides and skims along the edge of sanity,
but who never surrendered to the true evil of vanity.
Recovered from drunken, dissolute despair,
to call the faithful masses back, never mind the wear and tear--
to plod the journey of your craft, to sing before the crowd
whose loyalty, to your band, forever is avowed.
Jul 22, 2025
Jul 22, 2025 at 8:14 PM UTC
The wind probably knows it.
Probably because,
it’s the only thing that knows it
but if you think about it,
it makes sense in a way
where you can understand
why writers write and
******** always win.
(Charles Bukowski’s an exception)
Oh how you wish that
when you feel it the most,
the more it would show
and that you’d actually
show it
but you’re a pro when it
comes in hiding what
royal rumble of rats
are inside like it’s
an automatic reaction
from the nervous system
and you (I) don’t know about (you)
anyone here but,
it really ***** when
you think about it,
everyone’s having the
time of their lives.
Destiny exists but,
only as you’ve always predicted
it, like how you got hooked
by one of Morrissey’s
hit which is ‘Everyday is like Sunday,’
Destiny commands:
every single day of your life
to be like Sunday and you
can’t help it
and o!
Plus the fact that everyone’s
too focused in stardom
to know what is it
with Sundays and why
it is supposed to be sad
so you’re
in for like how Ozzy Man
puts it, “Destination ******
******* references...
since when did knowing
such things makes one hipster?
(Since every single *******
pedantic-narcissists including the closeted ones
got the idea when it trended of course; I know,
I am aware of the absurdity)
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 5:31 PM UTC