Running.

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THIS IS A COMPLETELY FICTIONAL POEM, WITH NO AIM AT PINPOINTING ANYBODY. its kind of funny how some people come up to me and go, "hey, who's that player" and i'll be like, "um..he doesn't actually exist." You see, I have this big habit of writing bout players because they are so irritating and annoying and....okay nevermind. Nevertheless, this poem holds true content. Just...not totally true stuff. Argh, forget it.  just enjoy! (:

RUNNING:

You might find my nag extreme,

But I beg of you, listen to me.

For my advice is of great importance,

So stop resisting and quietly listen.

That boy is like a drug,

Meeting him is the worst of your luck.

He’s not as gentle and charming,

His wit is rather alarming.

No, you still don’t believe me,

He’s too perfect to be evil, it seems.

Oh, he’s a wolf in a sheep’s clothing,

The thorn in the roses you’re holding.

He treats you like an angel, sure,

Other girls like dirt, hear

The wails that trail long behind him,

The tears the drench the wounds on limbs.

Look under the guise of his smile,

Retain your dignity, don’t go wild.

He is the poison stirred by witches,

Foiled grand plans with thousands of hitches.

He’s the poisonous toad you shouldn’t kiss,

The vile mixture that bubbles with hiss.

The chocolates with liquor and spice,

The curse on cupid’s rolling dice.

He tells nothing but lies,

As rotten tomatoes attract flies.

He’s not Romeo beneath the stars,

Just the spoilt lumps in smooth flour.

Don’t let his pretty mask deceive you,

Even his sneeze results in fatal flu.

Darling, when you see him arriving,

You better step on it and start driving.

I know you can’t afford to resist,

But one slip and you’ll end up deceased.

Sow hen he steps out of his little hive,

You better be running for your life.

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