P.M.S. (Poor Me Syndrome) Poem by Poemahontas Poemadonna

Look what I made you do
You're so vindictive this is true
Take your meds I'm sick of you
Keep your head under my shoe

Get some help you're full of symptoms
You're diagnosed with poor me syndrome

Can't take the heat
Get the hell of the kitchen
The truth was leaked
Get back in your position

Thought it was sweet
Oh I forgot to mention
Wolves dressed as sheep
They're starving for attention

Get some help you're full of symptoms
You're diagnosed with poor me syndrome

Bleep this I'm a hot mess
You tried to go hard gave it your best
Peep this you're no contest
Grade your report card F on your tests

X on your chest no x marks the spot
Respect is expressed when I'm standing on top

Be slow to speak and watch your tongue
It ain't no fun, when the rabbit has the gun

Get some help, you're full of symptoms
You're diagnosed with poor me syndrome

You throw rocks then hide your hand
You're soft as cotton you're a gentle man

People trying to deceive
I'm framed get the picture
Devil don't even believe
Come to me quoting scriptures

You need help you're full of symptoms
You definitely have the poor me syndrome

Instigate then play the victim
That's what I call poor me syndrome