Tuesday, January 09, 2007

#261: January 9, 2007

It pains me to compare you to a skunk,
for animals know better what they are
than you, who wouldn't even know you stunk
unless somebody trapped it in a jar
and shoved it in your face. You vagabond,
you villain, scoundrel, ragamuffin, knave!
Whose facial features barely correspond,
whose very flesh seems fashioned to deprave!
And were you to respond, if you could speak
without spitting and spraying like a newt,
your self-defense is surely sad and weak,
and idiotically structured, to boot.

Stupidity and ugliness combined--
you are a perfect monster of your kind.

2 comments:

Sonnet Boy said...

I might have to start a "Hate Sonnets" label. They're fun!

middleclasstool said...

I'm in the mood... ;)