3 am phone calls,
texts that just don't stop,
drunken conversations,
and head fucks the lot of us.
Crazy and mad,
a real pain in the arse,
The ones to avoid
Evil harpies,
wicked witches of sex
A furious group are we
psychotic, licentious
needy neurotic
all of us
fit to be garrotted
Whether we left you,
or your still running from us
We are the ones you
bemoan in beer
and drug fuelled excesses
Either too mad, bad, vixen or bitch
best friend shagger,
Or frigid virgin desperate to hitch
How quickly we shift
from the arms of love.
Fall down the cracks
This distance you crave
We wish to save
If we be woman
our souls are stone
We are 'proper mental'
in need of straitjackets
and restraining orders
battle lines drawn
we cannot cross your borders
so who are we?
Who are we?
That awful bunch
Of exes....
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