Stalkers And Jerks

Maybe people are inanimate objects.
That surely is me, here again an eject.
Again and again, twice in a row,
There you go, OMG, I know, I am slow!

Shrew from now on…
Not a mean bone in her
Dearheart, hope is gone.
Never love metro confer!

Ejection is always how it would be,
Bestowed love received superficially.
Illness of sorts to be stoic as tree,
Unexplained loss of glee.

Sudden joys, conflicted emotions,
lies and rumors, deliberately spread,
unknown consequences, commotions,
maybe He is there? In this time of dread!

Connotations are a rage, forced,
like a forest fire, winds fan flames.
Our friends, dear ones are coerced,
mouths overflow with words, sadly names.

Stalkers can find no other obsessions,
Metrosexual, focuses on reputation.
Verbal fabrications, his weapons,
Weaker minds, their baggage, axons.

Carrying mendacities, unable to discern,
Tongues lengthen spewing vomit.
Axons, in panic show such lack of concern.
Collateral mutilation, see the hell of it?

In what way can we escape a pentagon?
What siege is this metro firebrand?
Cannot his doctors see? Is there antiphon,
Pack my baby, flee! Too weary make stand.

Pentagon form, a house, built chord by chord.
Stalkers, come with mouths, sharpened tongues.
At each chord, slash and slash, wages sword.
In His pentagon, two women, flight clearly toward.

Though it is sad our very closest contacts cannot discern or they
are so into themselves they cannot see us being hurt. And themselves being deceived and hurt. Or maybe they do and are just tired of dealing with the metro and his private dicks and misguided friends and his misdirected anger. Can you not see my child has moved on and you should too! This is about you!