On my paper, I wrote you into perfection
With all of my favourite flaws
I decided upon dedication with haste
Oh my knight, wont you pick up this fine mess from the floor?
You won’t?
What if I cry?
Still no?
How about a 1,2,3,2 rhyme?
Don’t you know the rhyme creates order
In fact, it makes chaos quite like a song
Doesn’t it pitter patter all playful and nice?
Fear not, I’m sure we can make it more wrong
How about we start with a gag to her mouth?
At least then your ears will be free from the nonsense she spouts
Oh look she changed the rules of the rhyme
Won’t you please beat her senseless, until she’s all out of time?
You won’t?
What if she begs?
Still no?
Please Sir, fill my head
Because on paper I made you perfection
I want to drink up the cure from your cup
I want to get lost as you try to unearth me
I don’t want to have just made you up
Am I quite finished?
Probably not
Maybe you should tell me
Please Sir
Tell me...
Or leave me to rot