Get fucked

Your commands are an annoyance,

Your whispers a chore,

Your screams are unheard of,

And I want no/more

And I’m sick from your thumps,

Your scraping and questions,

And answers to things,

You’ve crafted as weapons,

And though I may live,

An imperfect life,

At least I don’t resort,

To causing this strife.

And should I live longer,

Each way as I pass,

If you don’t repent,

You can kiss my ass.

Got it? I’m tired, you wouldn’t believe,

That I can be human,

Despite Christmas Eve.