Your Ego Is An Egg Poem by Mark Heathcote

Your ego is an egg
You wanted it to roll straight
But it just annoyingly rolls back to you
Your love is the same its a hard boiled egg
It goes rancid as soon as she looks at you.

You can't leave her now
Now she makes your toasted soldiers
And cries in the dead of night that you might
You can't leave her now
Now you've made her that death till we do part vow.

Your heart is at her disposal
She's got a tendency for the blues
She can scramble your brains
And happily feed you moonlit winter barbecues
And then transfix you painting her red fingernails.

Your ego is an egg
You wanted it to roll straight
But it just annoyingly rolls back, back to her
It just annoyingly rolls back through her legs
And back into bed somehow I need to calibrate.

Does, do any of you relate!
Come go guys you know we aren't kings
We're just pawns making 24/7 sacrifices
Pretending to be princes
When really we want to get scrambled

But not from a broken heart a broken yolk
But not from a broken heart a broken yolk
But not from a broken heart a broken yolk.

Your ego is an egg
You wanted it to roll straight
But it just annoyingly rolls back to you
Your love is the same its a hard boiled egg
It goes rancid as soon as she looks at you.

You can't leave her now
Now she makes your toasted soldiers
And cries in the dead of night that you might
You can't leave her now
Now you've made her that death till we do part vow.