So you want perfection.
Good god man you can't be serious.
You must be delerious.
Don't you know I'm the spitting image of rejection.
I don't know what you have been smoking.
But let me tell I want none of it.
No more I say, with a capital K.
Come on now that makes absolutely no sense.
It's like your speaking in gibberish.
Well just to let you know I do take offense, no matter the reason or pretense.
You can't talk to me that way.
It's not okay.
Well I would appologise but I have ran out tissues.
Know that it is because I like you, and this is from the bottom of my very damaged and twisted heart.
Well I guess it's good as anywhere to start.
Everybody these days is a critic, or cynic.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
No, spelled with a K. (know) Got it. Really clever.