Are you sitting uncomfortably?

Do I make you squirm?

Am I showing you up,

as a spineless cowardly worm?

 

Do my eyes pierce to your soul?

Can I see right through?

I am not so green to,

all the crap you do.

 

I do not have knitted brows,

from all the wool you tried to pull.

All the bull, you’ve chatted crap,

the manure heap now is full.

 

You’ve pulled some stunts,

within your time,

and this one is a flanker;

I didn’t think you’d stoop that low,

you really are a canker.

 

© Are you Sitting Uncomfortably 29.10.2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Random (Photo credit: Photos o’ Randomness)