Happy Fucking Birthday. Darling.

Happy Birthday, beloved lover,
I so want to take a cleaver

And hack off with great delay, that smug display
(You call your face)
And turn your happy day, into my happy dismay
(Blessed be thy grace!)

Happy Birthday, You!
There are but a few

Who I loved so strong
(And blew all norms)
That it always felt bloody wrong
(And had no logical form)

Happy Birthday, Great Swine
O sickening love of mine

I don’t love you any longer
(For you are also ugly now)
Yet my thirst for you grows stronger
(I’ll get you honey, I anew avow)

Happy Birthday, Dear Beloved!
O hear, hail, what I say, what I said

I don’t Hate you at all
(No sir, the love’s still unbound)
It’s an emotion for you too small
(But what goes, shall come around)

PS:
Don’t sweat the meter
These are mere words, dear Peter

Who Peter? you say
Ah it’s anyone, anywhere, anyway

I am no poet, no bloody laureate
I am just a heartless woman, love’s ingratiate

(so fuck you)