It’s the age of constant distraction
Beauty defined by plastic fashion
Such savagery over the next caption
Going to extremes to prove an action
Hate on the menu for us to ration
One kiss you’ll learn he fakes the passion
His love is always on automation
An impeccable liar, the best in the nation
A list of broken souls should be confirmation of his vocation
He’s never been out of rotation
I hope death will be his next vacation
© Delia Ross. 2019
Like a snake he will shed
images that fill your head with dread
Under disguise in a flower bed
hissing & denying anything he’s said
Ole Copperhead is seeing red
He’s like an atomic warhead
A nasty fungus here to spread
disease & lies & pure bloodshed
© Delia Ross. 2019
His love is like Russian Roulette
For all he’s had and still not found love yet
Under his reign I had many debts
The lost and wounded are his favorite pet’s
Losing you won’t give him any regrets
He’s already forgotten you I bet
His love was like Russian Roulette
It doesn’t matter if they are blond or brunette
He’s not interested in her silhouette
Once he’s hooked you he’ll enjoy a cigarette
Making them cry is his largest asset
The only way to go no contact is to move to Tibet
© Delia Ross. 2019
Monster’s exist
Inside you
Inside those cold blues
What’s next on your checklist
Like a serpent you untwist
Unclinch your fists
You add no value
You’ve been dismissed
No point in an argue
And still you hissed
You are not part of my crew
I’m pissed we kissed
I need my time to regroup
So this is it
No more curses to spew
It’s time you quit
Your life is under review
© Delia Ross. 2019
