I have a little voice inside my head.
I'd wager than you do
Too.
But let me tell you about mine first.
I think he's getting rather cocky these days
I think he feeds on his own intelligence
And smokes himself high on self-importance
Because he's like that.
He gets cocky and tells me
I can't throw him out
Cos he has tenure
And besides which
He's the worthless bum I've come to love.
If I get knocked back at the bar
He's the one who reaches into my wallet
And pulls out a ten
And says 'your strongest cocktail please'.
If I smile when I wanted to kill someone
He'll comfort me with obscene images
And promise
Bloody murder and revenge, one day.
Oh, he's probably a womanising sod too.
If you could seperate him from me
He'd be there to laugh at me.
When I spin or drink from this bottle
I never know how much of him
Is going to spill out.
I like it like that.
He likes it, too.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem