Oh, I perceive your mousetrap mind in the diminutive.
so casually you dismiss the love I have to give.
I don't want to be free; no plea bargain for me.
Parenthetically, I could die for cute.
Your shopworn little jailbait charms I deign to condescend.
with grace that's almost violent, you exit with my friend.
Who'd have thought this simper was the way my world would end?
Your little goatee, the way you subscribe to every trend!
I admit I've got no disbelief left to suspend,
but I can forsee the grave into which I must descend
Hazel Iris A-list meters have no time for tears. With lashes divine,
they scan for the fabulousness sign.
Sweetly you affect a jadedness beyond your years, but not beyond mine,
and from the retirement home I'll whine:
How I adore your awkward pose, transparent and inept!
you never wanted to be had, but only to be kept.
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