Shitty Chance of Fate

Scrape off the paint to get down to what's thinner.  
I'll keep this short so we can all finish dinner.  
I know my family always appreciated brevity,  
and uncontrolled spontaneous creativity.  
I'll try not to let it get the best of me,  
as I see,  
you see,  
an itty-bitty flea sitting on a sack of shit,  
eager to dip his forty-eight year old tongue in your clit.  
Makes me want to spit out that late-night hug,  
when you let down your guard and stopped actin' a thug.  
I was a hand on your kettle ready to pour you out,  
when you were screaming red-hot sauerkraut.  
Now I laugh thinking of what make you shout,  
and I think that maybe  
you were just a baby,  
treating me with trickery and driving me crazy  
with that "just friends" bullshit gimmick.  
Never needed to stoop down to  
the spy that you mimick.  
Now you're standing next to me  
asking for a get one off free,  
sayin' that you blew a sleezy knee,  
and now's the time to talk about sodomy?  
I cut out the part of you that kept me poisoned
to what happiness is  
and now I feel free.  
Hell, I even drink more tea, less alcohol  
and less cuts on my face from repeatedly falling down that hall.  
It's not easy how I loved you while it burned my brain
and kicked me in the junk,  
cause we were both in a funk  
and never did feel the same, only funky  
since we met.  
Now it's hard to forget
how we just let  
something that once grew,  
fall drastically apart and get colder as we knew
it would silently grow big later separated, but stew
on decisions made too late  
and a shitty chance at fate.