O, how I can irritate some, so many shortcomings.
There's more than one.
Smoking, drinking, my language can be foul.
The cracking of knuckles, at times lazy is found.
Depressive moods, no dishes will be done.
If looks could kill, by now I would of killed no one.
Because with all my flaws, as plenty as they seem.
My compassion and love,...
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