The Worm

The worm

Oh worm, aren’t you sick?
You live in a grave and all that you eat
Is rotten meat…
Of the corpse of my sweet

It’s been a few weeks now
And I can’t help but wonder
If you even pause to sleep
Or if her meat has become sour

Have you called your friends
To divide her among them?
Did you carve any lines
To equally share her?

Or did you keep her to yourself?
Ha? Did you make plans
To make her carcass last
For as long as you can

Did you reach bone?
And in case that you did
Did that stop you?
Did it make you feel ill?

Oh, sickest of worms
How dare you be last
That touches her lips
That nibbles her breast

I was the one
That was meant to be
Her one and true lover
It was supposed to be me

Oh, dearest of worms
How I envy your senses
You look in her eyes
And you see all her faces

Did her hair keep on growing,
And her fingernails too?
Are her teeth still showing,
Is she smiling for you?

Oh, weakest of worms
I urge you to stop!
Whatever you’re doing,
I will approve not!

I want her back
You pathetic little tick
You’re not gonna give her
One more lick!

She’s all I got left
You blood sucking leech
And I will make sure
She’s out of your reach

Cause I’m coming in there
And you better prepare
I’m not the type
That likes to share…

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