Last Time.

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Basically, this poem is kind of a scenario where this girl is just tired of everything, and she's telling the guy to just disappear, vanish, die...I'll leave that to your imagination(:. I know I have been posting such poems WAY TOO OFTEN, but hey, when you have so much of that kind of inspiration around you, why waste the opportunity? You know, one of the reasons why I love writing so much is because you get to create your own world there. Once you write it down, and people read it, they'll remember it. For a writer, the last word is always mine.


Too long have I lived in my own world,

Subjected to sobs and all that fake love.

I guess only now, I'm seeing the truth,

And I don't give a damn about your suede boots.

Listen young man, I have seen your type.

Flirtacious, giggly, full of spite.

I tried to write poems to alleviate my unease,

But I guess you're just too good for me to please.

Sitting in a garden full of blossoms and sunshine,

It's hard to believe you had a say in my life.

Well, for your information, you're out of it.

And that pleases and satisfies me to bits.

Because I am done with your wilful ways,

Repeatingly writing about the same old pains.

I have better people to talk to here,

And even more important friends than you, my dear.

So, I swear to myself, I am over you.

At this very moment, I'm never ever going to be bruised.

I ain't caring about the other girls you have.

Poor things in self-denial, eating out of your many hats.

Oh look, there is a bird out there,

Chirping about my correct decision with good flair.

So see? Everyone agrees with me.

That you'rea  plain scum, all bark and no teeth.

Well, heck with you, and off you go,

To your giggly girls that make me hurl.

Try to remember what I told you the last time:

I told you that the last word is always, always mine.

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