2 into 1

You think that your aged antiqueness
The clean lines and curves of your sleekness
In some strange ways exhibit uniqueness
 
And so it goes
 
I look into your darkening bleakness
All I see is your simpering Meekness
It’s an obvious sign of your Weakness
 
My ire grows
 
For you I have hate with a passion
Despite, that hate, is out of fashion
I have no more pity or compassion
 
My rage, it flows
 
Forgiveness I’ve run out of ration
Id’ rather you dead, grey and ashen
I need my blade to start slashin
 
It’s came to blows
 
You’re no great tactician
To easily give your admission
Of your extra marital ambition
 
The hammer breaks your nose
 
I need no more ammunition
You satisfied all my suspicion
You now, have a date with the mortician
 
Time for you to decompose
 
 
And so it goes
My ire grows
My rage, flows
It’s came to blows
The hammer breaks your nose
Time for you to decompose