A most unfortunate lot
Around in the daytime
Gone by dark
Weekdays she's here
Weekends not near
She recklessly steers
I quietly sear
Bacall didn't have two Bogies
Why should she?
Either him or me!
Reason matters little
Hearts turn brittle
Passions become enflamed
Followed by bouts of shame
The balance of power constantly shifts
Morale rises and falls in a blink
One moment you're on stilts
The next halfway down a cliff
Despite her bawls, the Puppeteer enjoys the stage
Gets off on the dueling rage
Gladiators battling in a cage
Pulp ripped from the page
Oh, what we won't endure for love, or the promise of it
Sit down quietly and absorb a temporary jilt
Especially when the girl's built
Men will make everything else fit
But the reality is that we're both world-class fools
The very definition of quintessential tools
None of this is cool
Not like we're still in school
To have and have not
No longer just a film plot
Don't know about the other guy, but I wouldn't have it any other way
Eh, on second thought, maybe not
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem