The Egotistical Acrostic
As with all my posts this is about a man, not previously discussed, but incredibly deserving of a place in the A-Z, I hope you enjoy this little poem. No pics today, as I'm posting from a train, enjoy!
THE EGOTISTICAL ACROSTIC
Every Friday night, was nothing short of a nightmare...
Going out was such a drama, he spent hours on his hair
Or his tan, it wasn't streaky (and)
To the world he looked so buff, (but)
Inside his head was empty, like a bubble full of fluff
Shit... What was I doing with this guy?
The girls thought he was perfect, and he believed it too
I marvelled at his veet routine, his armpits were so smooth (and orange, seriously who tans their armpits?)
Casually I mentioned, his narcissist traits
And that he might need help, because it's not too late (to become a normal bloke)
Like a rocket he exploded in a firework of anger and told
me I'd been cheating with the guy from Pret a Manger, And with that he tried to leave the room but on his arm I grabbed
and made him bleed, (it's not my fault I screamed),
but it was too late (as I had already maimed his perfect skin) the wounded man he fled.
(after he went into the bedroom to collect his straightners and Touché Éclat).
The End.
