More of a song here, really.
Nate
Like a gate
To irreversible trauma
He shits-on-you with a flair of drama
Nate
It's only fate
That he eats your fingers,
Has digitty poop, it always lingers
Nate
He's full of hate
and tries to aggregate
but wait
that's bait
to drive the poem into a lake
like me, handling a rake
that Nate demands in an oh-ri-fice...
And now you order a cease and dee-cyst
My mistake
it was steak
that rhyme
was not sublime
and now he glares
at my superior hair
this topic, I turn it on its rear
because now the thread is about Kastere
__________________
I see you jockin' me.
Last edited by Mac Sirloin; 01-13-2010 at 07:39 PM..
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