Memoirs of an Asshole
Alright, I simply threw this together like… three minutes ago just to satisfy a bit of poetic drivel.
I will surely come up with something better in the (near?) future.
So, here you have it, “Memoirs of an Asshole.”
I may not be able to catch you if you fall,
I might not even be there when you call.
I most likely can’t hear you if you scream,
The closest I might come is in a dream.
I am not even sure if I care,
I won’t come running, not here, nor there.
It isn’t my job to check on you and make sure you’re safe,
Whether you are ill, hurt, dying, struggling, elderly or a waif.
If you haven’t noticed by now, I really can’t be bothered,
You’re not my problem, nor my concern, nor by me were you fathered.
Anyway, to cut this somewhat short and definitely bittersweet,
You can kiss my arse, or you can lick my stinky, sweaty feet.