You and your outbursts.
Oh, you with that evil grin, how it sickens me,
but how delighted you seem to be,
with your evil machiavellian schemes,
for they bring you great happiness,
and you love to burst people’s dreams,
and you wear extra-large boots,
to trample people’s ideas into the ground,
and of your heart there is barely a heart in you to be found,
yes, barely a heart,
for of compassion and caring,
of you it plays no part, no part,
for you have never truly felt anything,
and you never show any compassion,
and I doubt in you there are many compassionate feelings,
compassionate feelings at all,
for you are like a robot,
cold and empty and seemingly enjoy peoples suffering,
yes, you,
you with your Cheshire cat like grin,
oh, how it sickens me,
but how it lights up your face with happiness,
and that is the way unfortunately,
the way that you have always been.
