At Our Wit's End

Fri, 09/26/2014 - 16:54 -- ecimase

Oh, how it annoys me

To see you each, every day

Always, getting to me

In every possible way

Those times you ignored me

Or acted with disdain

You shall never see

How much of a pain

You are in my ass

You, with all this hate

How spiteful some can be

For no reason at all

Maybe, it will get better

Many beg to differ

It all feels the same

As when he looks at me

Judging me

Those coldest of stares

And really, I pretend

It tortures me, who is

One of the many

At our wit's end



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