I look at the bitch
She sists across the table in front of me
Her eyebrows refuses a million things
Curving up and down showing disagreements
Then she plays with her phone
Smiling like a brat

Her idiotic personality
I must tolerate
Her unfair judgements
I will keep in my heart
Better yet, in the door that locks all misfortune
I'll try to resist
The alluring calls to kill her

I won't stoop so low
Just to prove my points
No
It hasn't reached to that state
Not yet
At least