poems, mostly composed when heartbroken or sad


2. deja poo

here again, here again, jiggety jig, i cry and i pine for some terrible pig, someone who lately had made me feel fine, who now wasn't worth it, the festering swine.

'oh minxy!' they say, 'its his loss, not yours', 'why thank you' i say, 'but i've heard it before', its never my loss is it, never my gain, when all i am left with is numbness and pain.

so now i am lonely and ponder again, what is it with me and what is it with them? i'm honest and caring and give them my all, but time and again i'm set up for a fall.

can it really be them every time and not me? of course not, i'm perfect as perfect can be! they had sudden breakdowns or misplaced their minds, more like they were liars and born without spines.

a magnet for bastards i'm destined to be, perhaps they will change when they're ensnared by me, its highly unlikely, i know from the start, that sooner or later they will break my heart.

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