I got a bone to pick

I got a bone to pick

with you

I got a problem

with you, D

I got a bone to pick

with you

that’s my problem, see?

my bone with you is

my problem and

it’s just that—

 

I don’t really like you, Dick

that’s my problem, see?

that’s my bone to pick

with you, D

I just can’t stand you, see?

 

no, wait a sec—

what the heck?

I project

 

I’m not happy, D

the bone’s in me

it’s not you, see?

my problem’s me

my bone to pick’s

with T

now I see

go away, D

it’s not personal

it’s my personality

Unknown's avatar

About troysherdahl

A blue-collar bohemian with a penchant for fine words and dirty jeans.
This entry was posted in poems. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a comment