I see them toys
Always owned by the boys
Made from some funky alloys
Making all kinds of funky noise.

I look at myself
After reading all those books on the shelf…
Fuck trying to rhyme,
Have neither the energy nor time.

I continue to skoff
At your attempts to show off
Whether it’s to make a molotov
Or bring me to a kickoff.

I got nothing to show
No seeds to sow
Am no pretty boy emo
Don’t have that cis glow
But I hope you want to go
On a date with me if so
You take me as is, though
I may have to ask Mother Willow
For some dating advice hitherto.

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