You mope and complain The assholes, they only get the chicks But what about the bitches That walk amoung us You guys can't get enough. You're treat like slaves, Sex ones if your lucky- They'll run around on you String you along Barely even notice you... And there you guys are A thousand little puppies With hormones running wild Right behind them And when the novelity of having the sexual antics wears off And amazingly, that does happen, every so often- You whine and say, why doesn't she love me? So you say we just fall for the assholes And let our hearts get broken by the bastards? Well then tell us Why you keep going after those bitches.
Reason for writing:
I read a comment Evan made about a poem called Men are Pigs, and I just got an idea. Not a good poem, but had to share the observation.
Birth sign: Gemini
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