Day 25 (Other Edition)

My boyfriend should be happy,

Here comes an Evanescence reference:

The last poem I’m wasting on you.

I refer to you as Cunt-of-a-grandmother,

But you’re really not a mother at all.

You’re more of an übercunt.

Like of all the cunts I know,

You are the benchmark.

I am going to edit this,

As your god should have edited you.

Gods, I hate you.

Your smile

That laugh

Your breath

I know three languages, and yet,

I cannot convey the depths of hate I have.

Stephen Hawking could not convey it,

Nor could Einstein make a formula.

Dr. Tyson would need more than his charisma,

And his brains to sway an audience to know…

How much I want not to love you.

But, life is choices,

And you made yours.

So, I make mine…

Without honouring you as an ancestor.

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