Look on your face like I’m one big disgrace.

Sorry mate, not cut out like you.

The reflection of everyday rests in my mind, like your face of repulsion glimmers in my eye lids.

What did you expect. You got what you wanted, just never the actual me.

Think about it, you won, you scored.

The blockades are up with me. I lost, never got what I wanted.

Now I roam on my own, all faults are mine, not yours.

You didn’t give an ass, as your new birds feathers seem ripe for plucking.

Happy pecking

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