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Here’s to all the ignorant vomit sacs who believe love is beautiful and shit.


Falling in love is mutilating and murdering yourself.

Sharing your love is carrying the dead body, showing it off, all around.

For God’s sake, burn the book or leave it on its shelf.

Or at least hide that horrendous corpse; bury it underground.


But it’s a damned cemetery, this witty world is.

Every one bragging of decomposed dirt.

Yours surely is more rotten than his.

So smell the rot, you asinine little flirt.


Life should come with a warning label.


Ironic, to be born on a doctor’s table.

Then die, massacred in deathly affair.


But we can’t live without love, it’s hilariously tragic.

For death lurks, immortal, in our hearts.

Yet our minds, gullible, believe it’s magic!

Beware, beware of Cupid’s darts.


Suck it up, Romeo, move on with life.

Cleanse your soul; stop being sadistic.

Sure it’s beautiful, but not when she’s your wife.

It’s a dead body, you’re stupid and unrealistic.


Take that you moronic romantics.

Painting by Caravaggio