The Enigmatic Route.
It's the enigmatic route,
It's being told to shut my thighs,
But I'm the mother of all your vices
and you're opening your flies.
We're not the furthest thing from heaven,
however hard you try,
But still I'm buying a 5 foot 4 coffin
and I'll burying my lies.
If there's no smoke without fire,
It's not love if you don't fight,
and if our winter turns to summer,
I hope you'll see me in a different light.
This is a really old poem of mine, but I still like it :)
I really have no excuse not to publish all of these now do I?