Sir William Tell

I hate your cat,
Can’t you tell?
The one that wears
The silver bell.
I hate the way
He looks at me.
If looks could kill
I’d be dead already.

You treat the thing
Like he’s your baby.
Giving him more love
Than you give to me.
I am sorry sir
William Tell
But you make my life
A living hell!

My girlfriend is
Not yours to steal.
When I’m at her house
I am the third wheel.
Why don’t you play
With your own kind?
What’s yours is yours
And what’s mine is mine!

But William Tell
That ball of fur
Looks at me
Lets out a purr
It’s as if he’s saying,
“I hate you too!
I own your girlfriend
What you gonna do?”

Honey, I’m afraid
One of us must go,
William Tell or me
Just let me know.
My girlfriend said
I had issues,
And I was a prick
For making her choose.

Now I rarely go over
To her place.
I can’t stand to see
Sir William Tell’s face.
I think sometimes
He winks at me,
Saying, “In yore face!
Now who’s yore Daddy?”

By: The Author.  April 10/2013

NaPoWriMo’s prompt for today’s poetry is an un-love poem.

2 thoughts on “Sir William Tell

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