Insult Poem
Your dusty words
Are filled with repetition
They are a dull-edged sword
That can’t even bruise
You seek for retribution
You value a vendetta
But you already lost before it began
Because of your lack of insight
You are just a burnt-out bulb
A fresh cut wound will become you
By the ninetail and whip I will use
By the ball and chain mace of poetry
My words will squeeze you in a vice
A vice of cold hard steel vocabulary
All because you’re secondary
I dominate this chessboard
I am the king, my words are my pieces
You are just a lowly pawn
With no one and no words
To say how you wish for a win
As much as it hurts you to hear
You lost, face it, you can’t beat me
I’m a master of the art of succeeding
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