Mr. Jones

Piece of frivolity,
He doesn't deserve
To live, if you ask me,
With his stark nerve.
He walks about
Blindly puffing his chest,
And his boasts foul
My air of space to rest.
He uses an obnoxious fart
Just to irk me with a wise reply.
And i get so sick in my heart,
I don't even bother God with "Why?"
Why do you abandon
Me to such belligerent
Obscenities that you always promised
To keep me protected
From? Now that I am
Prisoner, let's hypothetically pretend
You did me a righteous
Favor to make me stronger.
I'm not buying it-- this
Bulging sack of shit is more
Than Nero could bear! I
Swear this time I'm walking out
The door and disappearing
Away to some far asylum, like
New York, and build off  the
$20 I've got left over; I'm pretty
Sure someone will notice me
And take me under their wing
As he did, when we met on a
Bench after I first ran away from
Home. Things were so different
From then to now; I've gone
From 'baby' to 'bitch'in a matter
Of 3 hours; He makes me consider
Death; I don't ever make him happy
Enough.
And he manipulates me into
Sitting naked in a corner
To think about what I did this
Time to cause this whole
Dispute. If I just shut up and
Do what he says, this all
Could go alot smoother.
I comply, like a good girl,
Because he walks about
Blindly, puffing His chest
Secretly pleading me to
Just take that .45 out of his
Drawer and finally lay him
To rest.