You claim to be Romeo but you remind me more of a slimebucket.
You stink of cheap perfume and your breath smells like onions.
You haven’t got anything decent to bring to the table.
You’re disqualified and just not able.

Don’t try my patience today.
What’s that you say?
Satanic ramblings from the darker regions of the psyche.
You form words with your mouth and spit them out into the air like a llama and wait for good answers from mama.
Why choose me as your mama? I’m not going to adopt you, boy…
I can offer you a bit of extreme cold,
but in the seemingly sprung long run, I will round up here.

On my blacklist I’ll add your name
I’ll place you in the hall of shame, home of the lame.

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