What do you think you are playing at
You self-serving bureaucratic
whine and diners?
Could you push your heads any further
up the place where the sun never shines?
These useless lines, these futile rhymes
are all I can do to try and quell
the rising anger, thoughts of the hell
in which you will fester, you jesters
fooling with my mother's life.
You have a wife? a daughter, a son?
Well, play on then, it won't be long
Till you reap what you sow
and btw don't you know
You are murderous twats
and that is all I have to say
about that.
Fiocle 6th July and angry.
Very well said. This goes beyond angry. Hope your mom gets the care she needs.
ReplyDeleteThanks Katley. It just makes it so much more difficult for her, as if it is not difficult enough. I don't like having to write lines such as these, but I had to vent it.
ReplyDelete