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His sick sense of humor.
This poem doesn't have much of a rhyme scheme, but is it good without it?
You had me when I met you.
You grabbed ahold, took control.
I knew from the beginning
you, and only you, could make me whole.
But now something is wrong.
Something has ruined my dream.
Who is she? Why are you holding her?
Why aren't you holding me?
Do tell me if I'm wrong, sir,
I don't recall saying goodbye.
So tell me why her lips are on yours
without a hint of guilt in your gorgeous eyes.
I do believe that you have
such a sick sense of humor.
So tell me, babe, is she your newest joke?
[Hurt at first... a little bit, but now I'm] SO OVER IT.
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