Everytime someone likes me, I decide they’re a psycopath. Ringadingding in my ears. Ringading. Like they’d have to be. A psychopath. To like ME. Hey, here’s a poem:

I’m going to kill myself
No. Don’t worry. I’d never be that inspired.
Were you worried? Oh.
No, well that’s just how I feel.
Why? God knows. Too many reasons.
Too few reasons.
It’s just how I feel.
I’ll tell you what.
I hate everything.
I mean it.
I hate everything
Women and men
I hate women and men
Haven’t we all had enough of them?
Women and men
Ad nauseum.
(and golly, it didn’t quite rhyme)