My hair strands are like automatic bullets that tear into you, like my words honing in on you, you’re as bad as the men you make love to, all I ever wanted was a hit too, now not even nobody is gonna miss you, afew days ago I felt a sharp pain in my rib, I had to let go, you’re as bad as the men you make love to, I wish you all disappeared, you and your men and children, and your animals, It’s pure deceit, I don’t want you, I want Julz, I want Maliah, not the rest of you fools, I want Tori, I want Taylor Swift, not you many a bitch, you’re less than commoners to me, I know everything that happened to me, was intended for Morgan Willoughby, that’s why I hate you all so badly. I wish all the shows would end. This isn’t right, I’m the one that will lose if I lose or win or the fight, other people rhyme but who rhymes better than me? I see the messages other men are sending you when your messaging me. You’re scared of everyone but me, I guess that’s fair, because a long time ago I was the one that cared. ~ The poet with no name.