The Darkener's Console

You dodge as the thief comes in low.

Sick of Your Shit —

I could write another letter
I could call you on the phone
I could exercise my vocal cords
Or play a sad trombone

I could do so many other things
But when I think of it
The only thing I’d end up saying is,
“I’m sick of all your shit”


Categorised as: [OC] Original Content | Humor | Lyrics, Poetry



Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.