No, I don't want to be Friends.

If the rod that you had hit me in the face with
was really a rod.
and not you stomping on my heart.
then my hideously marred face would resemble
you as a person.
And when the rod acquainting my nose
Resembled the eruption at Pompeii.
And the children being charbroiled in lava,
Ran screaming in unfathomable agony
In and out every pore of my body
I would simply ask that I may only hold you closer
So that you may cool everybody off.





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