He’s a polymath narcissist
Who earns a grade in theatrics
He likes to launch in rocket stages
Flying tantrums of pure hysterics
For all the crowds that overlook
The matter of his own existence
Simply to show he has the muscle
To taint the waters of resistance
At any given opportunity
Blasting off pubescent impunity
He’s a drama Boi, a fake McCoy
A Divas waiting for a toy
I wish he’d turn into a toad
So I could squash him off the road
Rumors are his first profession
Scaling molehills into mountains
Whenever there’s a quiet moment
It’s subject to wild embellishments
Nothing’s safe from his bullet mouth
Causing mischief like Torquemada
He hounds on those for High school Shakespeare
Like a plague of fairy locusts
He’s Betty Davis with a penis
Splitting headaches with his Orifice
He’s a drama Boi, crudely coy
The star that’s born to always annoy
Because he lacks a certain conscience
I’d gladly kick him into Kansas
Like a girl he’ll never confess
The feelings that blockade his way
And when you try a placate tact
It becomes a game of cruel charades
Without a trail of stale bread crumbs
To delegate the armistice
Which unbeknown you have caused
And he exploits for turbulence
He likes to say it’s complicated
But only because it’s exaggerated
He’s a drama Boi, a rabid foil
A bitter witch who’s unemployed
And who I’d gladly patiently wait
To see become a coronaries date
You like to think you’re the author
Of “This world sucks and life’s unfair”
But no one told you that’s been done
And copycats have beating spares
Superficial your best refuge
Escaping away to the dream domain
Whenever consequence rise
You answer with a matinee
Theatrics are your pristine genetics
With double-entendres for semantics
He’s a drama boi, a spoiled sport
Who lives in the crag of every port
If only I dint have to see him
When I stand inside the mirror
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem