Getting Up For The Let Down (hostile version)

Here we are,
Fuking around again
It never gets that far,
Before it comes to an end

I am the one who always descends,
Going to the fuking bottom
While I watch you ascend,
Never reaching your autumn

We do this,
We do fuking that
We have a kiss,
We have a nice little chat

That's about it,
Not much at all
You'd think we would quit,
As if we hit a brick wall

But oh no!
We fuk around some more
It appears as though,
We're becoming a chore

The same go*-damed thing,
All the fuking time
I'd almost call it a fling,
With never lasting pantomime

But it never gets that staid,
To call it that word above
Nor is it arrayed,
To be called love

I'm always getting up for the let down,
That is for certain to fuking happen
If you can't understand this noun,
This always strange misshapen

(the opposite poem i wrote of this is Getting Up For The Let Down (amiable version))