One day you will ask yourself, what have I done

You are looking for facebook friends.
You are a fad.
You are a bad apple.
You are an egg, you are itchy
and you are, most importantly wearing my dress.

You are a light bulb in the bin
You are about to ruin everything
And are not relevant, looking awful, not nearly thin.

You are an art school after thought
an overdraft, an accident, an empty cash account.
You are armour
You are too much
You are not like us.

You are an anxiety
A passive aggressive excuse
You are making this continue
And so I must hide in poetry, and make you
a rabbit poo in a bowl of chocolate raisons.

You are arseless faeces
Cilla Black on acid
my pants crotch up in the fireplace.