Wounded spirit

I know a maid who never was right
she thought different, that she was bright

she scorned all around, indignant to wrongs on her
whenever someone upset her, world war would occur

"moocher, thief" the assaults don't end there
so wrong was she, her scorn as dark as her hair

but wait, she's the most high
even that she won't deny

in the end i hope you suffer sore
i only wish i could enjoy it more

you assault me and my life
i hope you enjoy lifelong strife

forget you, i can't stand your needless scorn
i wish you were better, and that is why i mourn

attack my character, you haven't the right
you will pay for your wretchedness and spite

say goodnight, for you will not enjoy your end
for something awful awaits you around life's bend

dedicated to a thorn in my side