SCORNED IS SCORNED


And, hell, what you got
Stashed between your legs
Don't matter a whit.

 

Because when time comes
To lay your fury
Down, the cruelest day
Still got twenty-four
Hours too many while
The kindest always,
Somehow just somehow,
Seems to add up to
That very amount
Shy of what you need.

 

Crazy as it sounds
It's so much simpler
Accusing flower
Petals of treason
Than getting your mind
Around the fact that
Some someone you want
Don't want you no more.