Your Beast of Burden
Please, do it,
I long for your lead fist
Of anger to rain down on me;
Rip me in two and re-assemble me
With your cheap scotch tape.
I am your papier-mâchéd fool.
Blame it on me,
Tell me I did it all,
I tore my own head off and
Served it to you on a gold inlaid platter.
You took it with your savage,
Unmannered hands and bit down
Tearing at the flesh only to
Spit it out and say
It tastes bad.
I long for your lead fist
Of anger to rain down on me;
Rip me in two and re-assemble me
With your cheap scotch tape.
I am your papier-mâchéd fool.
Blame it on me,
Tell me I did it all,
I tore my own head off and
Served it to you on a gold inlaid platter.
You took it with your savage,
Unmannered hands and bit down
Tearing at the flesh only to
Spit it out and say
It tastes bad.
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