it's really nothing personal
i just don't like the way you speak
your voice grates my every nerve
like a mouse learning to squeak
it's really nothing personal
i just don't like the way you move
it's like forcing myself to watch
how music loses it's groove
it's really nothing personal
i just don't like the way you think
if i have to listen one more time
i have to visit a shrink
it's really nothing personal
i just don't like the way you look
you act as if you're God's gift to women
but i know the amount of guts it took
it's really nothing personal
i just don't like you
you're the stuff nightmares are made of
please don't make them come true
1 comment:
It's a good thing that a friend pointed out something to me regarding this post. Before anybody get any wrong ideas or interpretations, I wrote this mockery (hehehehe) of a poem some ten years ago. So, unless, I have the power to see the future, this is not a "parinig" to anybody.
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