Cupid and I Are Tired of Your Crap

(257/365) Bloody heart

Roses are red, violets are blue.
Sugar is sweet, and so are you.
The blossoms have wilted, the roses are dead,
The choc’late box is empty, and so is your head.
The roses stink. Thanks for being cheap,
But leave your name, number, and a message after the beep.
A The flowers are molding, the florets are rotten;
I might call you back, if I haven’t forgotten.
Manufactured or not, don’t wait until the last minute.
Don’t wait a day. Tell me no words but three…
You fathomed not a single emerald plea.
Manufactured or not, don’t wait until the last minute.
You always seem to fall, to fail. I even drew you a map…
You wrecked. Cupid and I are tired of your crap.

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