"whiney" poems
I’am the
Whiney,
Amy Winehouse
Wannabee.
That’s going to blow myself,
away
before the Whispers of wicked winds can.
I can’t smile anymore.
If you have to always
stab
me in the back.
My heart lives on the other side
of my body.
If ya wanted to....
I could get you;
a steak knife
and you could
tear into my heart
like it’s
a medium rare steak.
If it would make you happy.
I’ll even bring the A-1.
Cause I care that much.
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 8:15 PM UTC
Every night, before going off to bed,
I lie down, and reflect on all the things I've done, heard, and said.
Have my words affected peoples lives?
Have my actions, changed how I'm viewed peoples eyes?
Am I still self conscious about the things people have said?
Do I still think I'm fat or think that I'd be better off dead.
Am I still just a whiney little girl?
Will I actually get somewhere in this world?
Will I ever be loved?
Or will I continue to be pushed around, bullied and shoved.
Yes, I've heard some pretty nasty things in my day.
But now, I've learned not to listen to what people do or say.
I know exactly who I am inside.
I've been depressed it for so long, but now, I refuse to hide.
I love myself, in every possible way.
So, for now, I drift asleep, and hope that tomorrow will be an even better day.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 1:00 AM UTC
Im here for family my Juggalos don't care bout the rest,
All you whiney *** haters to me are just a test.
I'm down with the clown and I will be until I die,
Whether it be heaven or Hell in which I fry.
I'm representin clown love for all my life,
And I hope so will my future wife.
We got Blaze, ICP, Twiztid, and Boondox,
**** what the haters say this music rocks!
We all got love for one another we family,
Sit back and watch and song you'll see,
We paint our faces but it's not just for show,
We show our heart which route our minds will go.
We don't care what you think or say,
Every one of us deals with haters everyday.
We will live strong and die strong,
And no matter what you say we'll always be strong.
When we die we get our own island where we go,
And if you ain't down Thats a place you'll never know.
We Juggalo homies man we're the best,
And no matter what you try we'll pass your foolish tests.
- Dustin Kohman 1/17/2011 1:32 pm
Aug 24, 2011
Aug 24, 2011 at 2:43 PM UTC
I claim to have empathy
But I also know I'm lacking.
I chuckled when you said
You'd marry him
You're in high school, sweetie
And when it didn't work out
I wasn't at all surprised.
When you ******* about your life
My mind was on mine
When you made every small problem
Bigger than it needed to be
My thoughts immediately said
"It could've been worse"
But my mouth didn't dare.
And then you have the gaul to tell me
That I'm being pessimistic and whiney
After all the times I bit my tongue
In front of you?
Sorry honey,
But I can falsify empathy for you.
If it's sympathy you want
Go look elsewhere.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
Rush, Rush!
Gunky plush bagog
Nugget sog
Peedle glog
Plundering down the boulevard
I saw what seemed to be a Schmagtap
Slukavard.
Under his buttons, there grew his
Mutton.
Mutton branch, penal franch
Sogging down the grittle bog
And briggenfagig squeezing a bib,
Soaked in carrot juice frib
Muggafloo
Plubderp.
Schmubderp.
Aug 21, 2011
Aug 21, 2011 at 12:45 AM UTC
If I did go wrong more or less at once, I wonder where
The chop block decisions of grade school, when you first realize you don’t care
‘I just don’t care’ in whiney and off-pitch voices and messy drawers
Was it the first time you realized you couldn’t be perfect and so just stopped
Being
Was it sneaking on to computers and secretly learning more about life in books than your
Parents wished you to ***** things)
Or was it when you learned because you shouldn’t
And didn’t learn and didn’t learn, and that persistent bubble as you grew up got bigger and bigger
Some looming threat about your future dangled over your animal head like a carrot as you trotted through worksheet a, a-2, a-3
And exercises you could finish in two minutes or two hours and get the same grade
Or copy and get the same grade
And those grades mattered more and more, and vaguer and vaguer
And they guided you less as they shoved more in front of you and grabbed your nose to say
This is important, this is you
And your friends started laughing like lunatics as well as ********
And the first kids ended up crying in stairwells
And you slept in class?
Was it all that, or was it outside. Was it your parents admitting they weren’t happy.
Was it the first time you had to recognize dishonesty or cruelty in others
(you had long since seen it in yourself)
Was it the first time you wanted to die.
Is it now?
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 1:13 AM UTC
I wish I was Stronger.
Handsome.
Attractive.
Instead of this whiney
Hopeless
Piece of ****
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 9:53 AM UTC
The jester free styled about dealing grams under the tainted Charleston moonlight – Drug scene.
Whenever we discussed the existence of God, it always ended in a fight – The unseen.
The harlot was always type casted as the Rizzo, never the Sandy.
Who could forget those black leather pants, oh so tight – Street corner scene.
The king flirted with the innocent freshmen girls, unaware of the imminent restraining order.
He would joke about using the effervescent glow of his skin as their flashlight – Obscene.
The fair lady believed Tolkien was the closet humanity could ever get to godly perfection.
She was infamous for always tripping over the set, a common plight – Off scene.
The wizard dreamed one day to be the first black James Bond, code name Black Mamba.
One day he told me he liked women and men, except the whiney boys of white – Epicene.
You, the minstrel, sang the words to “Baby Got Back” in your high-pitched voice backstage.
You often told us “rawr” is dinosaur for I love you and everything will be alright – End scene.
I, the queen, tried to hide behind the black velvet curtain paralyzed by my stage fright.
But now, I just wish you hadn’t crashed your car into the tree that night – Unforeseen.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 2:12 AM UTC
“Feminism shouldn’t exist” the guy next to me in class tells me with conviction in his eyes. “Females have more rights than men, their period just makes them whiney as ****
Well, you might not be a guy who walks around grabbing girls’ ***** believing that the clearly uncomfortable smile she send you, after you had starred non-stop at her for 5 minutes straight was consent.
Or a guy who comes up to a girl at prom not being able to understand that she doesn’t have a date because “all the guys I know would **** to pieces”
But just because you don’t do this (and THANK YOU for that), don’t ******* tell me these men don’t exsist, when each of every example in this poem is a different guy in my life..
You’re not the one who couldn’t walk down the school hals without 10 guys catcalling and starring at your *** all while you stare the floor.
I guess it’s my fault for wearing leggings or running pants, thinking it was a smart idea because I planned on going running later. Or at least that’s what I’m told at the guidance.
Unfortunately them not being ‘real pants’ doesn’t make your hands on them less real.
You’re not the one therefore starting to wear as baggy close as possible, because apparently that’s the way of escaping male gaze and more importantly hands, just to be met by comments going: “did you get up last minute this morning,” or “why did you give up trying? You used to dress so cute”
Trying on WHAT?
Yes, I am giving up, because I don’t know how to make you look into my eyes without giving me the elevator glance first.
But, I shouldn’t be complaining. Pretty girls don’t have anything to complain about – right?
They’re pretty, they’re going to do fine in life as long as the know how to take off their clothes.
Being pretty is the reason guys pay you attention, and you should be glad, cuz ugly get none.
So I’m taught to sit back and accept harassment, because the only other option is not getting is, and you wouldn’t want that, would you?
All while girls compete trying to become as pretty as me and all the other pretty girls.
Because it doesn’t matter how funny or smart you are as girl, if you aren’t pretty, it doesn’t really matter.
BUT, if you are, being smart is hot – not geeky, and any other slightly not good characteristic will be overlooked.
And taking off your clothes is a great tool to get your way.
Just accept life is easier you for, man.
But you misunderstood something.
Girl don’t try to be pretty to have that kind of ‘privilige’ or to get an easier life.
They try to be pretty, because it the only way you survive.
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 6:13 AM UTC
If my physical wellbeing is any kind of indicator
I'd say that I'm wibbly-wobbly, piney-whiney.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 7:33 PM UTC
I wish we had a president
That cared about the populace
Instead of one who's wants the law
To bankrupt almost all of us.
The one we have cares about
Only the super rich and the white.
He’s a ditzy mouthy narcissist
And for sure that is not right!
It really wasn’t long ago
We went through this kind of fear
And now we are feeling sick
That terror is once again here.
This time we’re not afraid
Of people from another land.
Our country may be dying
But, again it’s by it’s own hand.
Part of it is stupidity and sloth
And part is just evil mindedness,
That either makes us look away
Or make others hate kindness.
Some of our parents trained us
To be big bullies and whiney brats.
And others ******* progress
By dissolving into brainless spats.
I wish we had a president
Like we have had in times gone by
Instead of one who is so happy
To pat his own back, cheat and lie.
It would give us all a chance
To avoid waging another war.
I wish we had a president
That knew what that job was for.
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 4:17 AM UTC
Benedict met Mrs Cleves
in one of those
out of town bars
and they had a few drinks
and she told him
about her ex and
what a ******* he was
and how he used
to mess around
with those air hostesses
(he being a steward on a plane)
and he'd even boast
how many of them
he had had that week
and Benedict listened
and drank his drink
knowing that after this
they would go back
to her place
and drink more
put on some Delius
on her hifi
and have ***
on the sofa
or maybe make it
to her bedroom
if time and passion allowed
but she talked on
about her ex
and how she met him
after she came
out of the convent
(Benedict couldn’t picture
that scenario)
all innocent and pure
and thought love
had been found
Benedict sipped
the last of his drink
noticing how her hair
was like that French queen
he’d read about
who’d had lost her head
on the guillotine
and still she yakked on
about the ex
how he liked
fast cars and women
and drank too much
and disliked
her Scottishness
or her whiney voice
Benedict wondered
what she was like
back then
before the pounds
had landed on her
before age
had begun to settled
into features
and remembered
that time they had ***
on the sofa
and they’d fallen off
( too much *****
or what he couldn’t now say)
and the downstairs neighbour
had banged up
from the room below
and she said
shut the **** up
you old hag
and all said
in her Glaswegian tones
and they lay there
on the floor
she **** naked
and he semi clothed
with Mahler’s 5th bellowing
in the background
and as he came back
from his thoughts
she was still talking
of the ex
and he wished
she'd finish up
her drink
to get back
to her place
for more ***** and ***
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 1:47 AM UTC
Sometimes I don't feel very poetic,
and sometimes I just feel pretty pathetic,
because some days I feel like I'm doing fine,
but a moment later I want to just die,
because theres so much inside that I need to say,
but try as I might I can't find the right way,
because I feel so alone- Who could comprehend,
the pain, the pressure, the ache in my head,
so I just resort to going to bed,
but sleep never finds me, for it too has ditched,
and sometimes I just feel like a whiney *****
because regardless of the ******** and all of this mess,
I know that ultimately I have been blessed,
it might take not weeks or months, rather years,
but I know one day will mark the end of my tears,
I might be at the bottom, the worst I could be,
but I've got my whole life still ahead of me.
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 4:44 AM UTC
we’re seven years old again
it wasn’t such a danger to live in pretend
when running with scissors was the greatest crime
when nothing but ice cream was on the line
when the only thing broken was mom’s favorite vase
when we made a mistake, just stop and erase
when my brother and I fought about petty things
when it was a miracle for a butterfly to sprout wings
when we weren’t afraid to be wrong
when we listened to the radio and just sang along
when the skies were blue and the moon was bright
when the stars were what we thought of at night
when the biggest fear was the monsters under the bed
when we’d never regret a single word we said
when boys were weird and girls played with dolls
when we wanted to grow up and break from these walls
when we wished on stars and thought it would come true
when school was for drawing and flash cards and glue
when Band-Aids made the pain go away
when mom’s embrace made everything okay
when we wanted to ride a big kid bike
when the closest thing to love was like
when teachers were geniuses and parent knew it all
when we knew they were there to catch us if ever we may fall
when we could dance like no one’s watching
when we could talk like we didn’t care
when we could smile a thousand watt smile
when we could sing like no one’s there
snow was the greatest thing in the world
we didn’t count calories in birthday cake
we wanted a new toy for christmas
we ate dinner as a family
and mom and dad were the only ones in love
Looking back on that now, it seems we got our wish
We grew up, but its childhood we miss
Because now we’re all heartbroken and bleeding
Impatient
Whiney
Bruised
Needy
Pigs don’t fly and there’s no money on trees
Rainbows aren’t too colorful, sugar isn’t too sweet
Mom and Dad rarely talk and our teachers get us in trouble
Band-Aids and Mom’s hugs won’t keep us in a bubble
We were merely daydreaming, now we’re all about to fall
This is what we wanted, but we don’t want this at all
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 9:22 PM UTC
I am trapped in the shackle of your thoughts
I reign terror over your mind, saturate it with the sound of my whiney voice
On the faces of strangers in the streets you cast your glare
It is my face you see
Every breath you take triggers thoughts of me
Even the sight of shadows have me consuming your entire being
My laughter echoes ceaselessly in the halls of your tiny abode
Visions of me in a pale pink robe appear in your bedroom
Pulsating is your heart at the sight of the vibrant luminosity I exude
As we dance to the music in our hearts
With the moonlight cheering us on
We will reminiscence and ache and ache and ache
Nostalgia will overpower us as it always does
When the hour arrives
I will fade into the light of dawn
And you my darling will be left embracing nothingness.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 5:21 PM UTC
Hello, my name is David Phlegmister. I am much too self-aware. I also have no ******* idea who I am. My intestines twist and turn just like yours. I think I must have a pretentiously metaphorical tapeworm. Everything I do or say is backed by either anger or curiosity, and in spite of this I am somehow not in jail. I try too hard. I don't try hard enough. I care too much but I still don't give a **** I wont tell you I'm hungry even though I havent eaten since yesterday. No, really, it's fine, I'm not hungry.My hands and feet are too big for my body.
Seriously, **** off, I'm not ******* hungry
I drink black coffee and smoke cigarettes but I swear to god I'm not an egotistical existentialist. My mom tells me that I'm too skinny but dont worry I'm not hungry. Smells **** me up.
I can still smell your perfume and I can still smell your *****
Your feelings dont matter because we all die eventually.
Boo hoo, get the **** over it.
Everything you stand for is a lie. God isn't real, your government hates you, status is meaningless.
Jokes on you so **** yourself.
I'm sixteen years old in an Aberdeen-esque hellhole.
I'm a highschool dropout
My old school was a cesspool of AXE body spray and ****** ****
My friends all want to **** themselves and I don't blame them.
I'm an ******* in my own right, but I don't know about yours.
Im still waiting for someone who doesn't have to fix me to love me.
I whine and ***** about whiney ******* and wonder why I hate myself. I've come to terms with the fact that I'm going to be a ******
Reality is not, and will not, ever suffice.
It will never satisfy.
Never bring contentedness.
Theres no denying that I will be hooked on whatever unrefined, kidney-raping junk I can get my filthy hands on. Marijuana got boring fast.
I hate routine. I hate sameness. I feel too ******* much so I punish myself for it.
**I AM NOT A ******* PIECE OF ART**
I'm your aborted ******* son.
My fingernails are too short.
I lie to people who care about me
and I don't know if its for
my sake
or theirs.
I'm the elephant in the room of conservative christian right wing baby boomers.
I CANNOT and WILL NOT do what is expected of me.
I don't fit in.
Thank god.
Don't wanna be a starry eyed, brain dead statistic.
Sometimes I don't sleep on purpose just because I don't deserve to.
I don't owe you a ******* thing. I have nothing to prove and nothing to give.
IMNOTHUNGRYIMNOTHUNGRYIMNOTHUNGRY
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 6:03 AM UTC
no can do the turning of water, the greatest magician’s trick ever, but
turning words into wine, that I can do,
ready your life, go get a wine glass,
sit down, this is heady stuff, be prepared!
you’re thinking, shoot, I can do that too,
no, you just think you can, for if you could,
you would be drunk already, making typos
all over your shirt, thinking’ bout your next
verse, a great love affair, the one you never
should let get away, the wrong choices that
fed on each other, living with a hateful woman
for the better part of your whole life, the children
who don’t even call to wish you happy birthday
and you would be drunk already just like me,
writing poems like this, a poet sitting on the roof,
and you would have written this whiney poem,
not me, pretending wine can wash your conscience clean
<>
“*I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try
But that was just a dream*”
Losing My Religion
Song by R.E.M.
Aug 24, 2020
Aug 24, 2020 at 12:31 PM UTC
Within a month you told me "Baby I love you so". You were the first boy who ever told me that, this you know. And this won't be the first time, and before I waste another line, I've got to tell you no. And you know why, cuz you're insane and clingy and I'm a waste of your time. Time to be disillusioned darling, cuz you're way too needy!-And I'm pleading- let me go.
So this is how I'm telling you to move on. I wrote you another ****** song. And I know, that it was really ****** so cold and mean of me, to say it to you this way. But I won't regret a single word I say. So move on. Trust me you'll feel better when I'm gone.
You think I'm so sweet, your perfect sugarplum. Well babe how can that be true when all I do is make you glum? You want to hold me tight but you make me want to punch you every single night. Oh thank God, you'll never be mine.
So this is how I'm telling you to move on with your life. I wrote you a ****** song so you'd listen up this time. And I know, that it was so **** ****** so cold of me, to put it to you this way. But I won't regret a single thing I've said today. Just move on. Trust me you'll feel better when I'm gone.
So take a word of advice, I won't sugarcoat it or say it nice. You really gonna make tell you twice? To move on!
You don't love me, don't be absurd. You think you're the only one who was ever hurt? You're so selfish, so ******* demanding. You asked too much of me so I'm telling you I'm done. Forever! I wipe my hands of you as friend or as lover. To tell you the truth, I never wanted either.
And now I'm telling you, to move, the **** on. Yeah all I did was write you a really ****** song.
And I know, that it was really ****** so cold and mean of me, to tell you in this way. But you're annoying as hell, dumb and whiney as well. You think I'm nice, but just hear my last advice: leave me alone. Bye-bye, you'll be better once you move on. Yeah leave me alone.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
After giving up on homework
I'm going to write a poem
About what I have done
And where I am
And what is my worth
Those are questions on my conscious
Right now, I don't have the time
This why I want to take
A mental photograph
I want to take a snapshot
Of the single moments
Where my mind is off
Leaving the feeling Melancholy
To sweep up.
A time where I sit and wonder
What my point is anymore.
Of the times when my Mind
Comes in from a late day
At work
And the traffic was bad
And there was no promotion
Nor bonus nor reward
For the extra work
He had put in this week.
So he plops himself on the sofa
And his on the couch
Drinking yet another can of beer
In the kitchen
His wife Conscious cries
As she puts away the candles
And stows away the meal.
A romantic meal is all she wants
Mind will not put in the work
This was not the man she loved
Not this burnt out corpse
I wonder why I keep going on
Why I keep pushing myself forward
There's nothing special about me
I'm just a normal mortal
When I look into the mirror
I see flesh and bone
And tired eyes
I see acne and scars
And razor cuts
I do not see a god,
A creature that's special.
Just a simple human
Not worth all the hype
Not worth a penny more
Than all his peers
Actually, probably
Worth a penny less
You who read this might think
Is he depressed
Sick
A whiney *****
The answer is
At times to all
I'm merely just a
Tired
Burnt
Angsty
Teenager.
With the constant nagging thought
What have I done?
Where am I?
Am I worth all the compliments?
Am I worth all the insults?
Am I worth anything at all?
For even teens
Filled with angst
Can question themselves sometimes
So I'm filing this snapshot
Along with all my more coherent ones
Is this a good idea?
I hardly read the work.
Oh who ******* cares
This is more for me
Than for you
Sep 20, 2010
Sep 20, 2010 at 11:45 AM UTC
You think I want to be this way?
Lonely, afraid and depressed.
The muted light cannot shine through the window anymore.
You think I blocked it out.
So I'm asking for it then?
According to you, I'm petty and whiney
Like a lost dog or a child.
And speaking of children,
It was my fault that he touched me then too.
Seven years old, but yet, I should have known better.
As if by some gift of God, I'd know to resist.
These are the elixirs society has force fed me.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
1) I walk five miles deep into the woods in the back of the yellow house with my brother so that we can watch the flies circle around the bodies of the dead cows: their hanging limbs, their loose tongues. The air hangs like a boy’s arms around my shoulders. My brother and I both wear shorts.
2) Inventory: one tractor in the yard. One truck in the driveway. One driveway, gravely like the throats of my father and grandfather. They both live in the yellow house. At night I stay up late listening to their screams. They sound like owls’ heads or hurricanes.
3) Father sees a different woman each day. They all have blonde hair like mine. Eyes brown and crumbling and whiney like mine, too. Mother left when I was three years old. Brother and I still aren’t sure if Father means she’s dead or if she just ran away, but we’ve yet to see a tombstone.
4) We go to church every Sunday. The pews press against the back of my sticky legs and white dress. Charlie eyes me from across the aisle and I do my best to focus on the head in front of mine.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 6:26 PM UTC
Is it bad that change myself to conform with society?
That I’ve changed so much
I’ve forgotten the real me?
Sure, society is changing
But I want to be the REAL me NOW.
Not to sound bratty or whiney,
But it’s been long enough of people hiding behind false smiles
And fake laughter
Of people hiding behind a persona they make for themselves
We want to be who we want now.
When’s it going to happen?
When can I walk into school
Without fear of being bullied for what I wear
When can I walk the streets
Without fear of being *****
When can I walk into a room
Without judging stares
When will any of this happen?
Is it bad I’ve created a false image of myself?
That I fear being judged so much
That I changed everything about myself,
That I can’t remember what the real me looks like
I used to be a sweet, somewhat girly kid.
Now, I dress like a boy
So not to get others attention,
I intimidate the **** out of others
So not to get bullied for being small,
I don’t show feeling,
So not to be judged for being weak.
I just want to be the real me,
Just once in my life without fear
Of what others will say.
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 7:23 PM UTC
I had one of those but the wheel fell off
I lost the tone of my wobbly piano,
I had one of those but the wheel fell off,...
I fell in a ditch because of this.
A one wheeled bike is a unicycle, and I can't ride one.
I had one of those and the wheel fell off.
I stumbled from the path,
Oh dear,
A passing Arabian from a street market nearby,
Gave me a carpet so that I could fly.
I didn't need my wheels, not one or two or three.
I flew over the houses and crossed the blue sea.
I saw a number of mighty beasts from the briny,
Several fair ships and I'm not being whiney.
It seems to me that I don't need wheels as my carpet's flying high.
Thank you Mr Market Trader.
For now I am a space invader!
(C) LIVVI
Inspired by my two cute grandsons as I played with them this morning
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 8:37 AM UTC
//// • ||
<>
/ ( •) ( • ) \
)
((
( )
my girlfriend's back gonna save my reputation
hey la di la
My girlfriend's back !!
••
BROKEN HEARTS ON BROKEN STREETS
••
this is the title of a new T V comedy sitcom on cable
///
Some HP people have been offered parts
WR KNOW THAT MOST OF YOU ARE QUALIFIED TO
PLAY THE WHINEY BANAL
BROKEN HEARTS
////
WE HAVE ALSO HEARD THAT
BERYL DOV
MAY HAVE BEEN OFFERED THE PART TO PLAY OF
THE BROKEN STREET
BUT WE HAVE ALSO HEARD THAT HE IS IN
THE RUNNING FOR
THE NOBEL PEACE PRIZE
AND SO MAY BE COMMITTED
TO CAMPAIGNING FOR IT
//:
Well enough of this
Time to get to the poem you've all been so
Anxiously awaiting
OH NO !
I'VE GOT WRITER'S BLOCK !!
//// just kidding ! Just kidding ////
//
Well
Here it is
/:/
Along the path
Leads to the ancient bridge
Crosses the magic river
Leads to the mystic hills
///
Thru the slums and tenements
Gathering young children
••
Look
I know that no -one loves me
I don't take it personal
I just wonder of the deeper meaning
••
I mean
If you are still living in this world
And aren't wondering why you still are
Than we got some serious problem here
•
All truth is out there to found out easy
••
I'm still cool
///
//// • ||
<>
/ ( • ) ( • ) \
especially since my girlfriend 's back !!
••
Well
All I gotta do is go back up there
And slap on a title and I'm outta here
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 1:49 AM UTC