On The Throne

I sent a little missive asking her for some advice
The psycho bitch from hell decides to copy in the boss
She treats me like a piece of dirt; as if I might have lice
And maybe when I’m gone she’ll throw a party for my loss
I’m unaware what I have done to make her feel this way
I think she took dislike to me the moment that we met
I hope it’s not the autism or fact that I am gay
But frankly i dont give damn so she can call me Rhett
One day I will be on my way I’m going with the wind
To pastures new and lands that I am yearning to explore
And then this little feud will almost certainly rescind
A little aftertaste of something bitter nothing more
I hope for now she’s wise enough to let this dog alone
She thinks that she’s the queen but she’s just squatting on the throne


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