Single Digit

Taking time to mold my casket.
Still I can’t get past it.
Symbol of my mortality.
Why did you gift this millstone to me?

I don’t know, it seemed so right.
Why are you always looking to fight?
Are the words I would say.
If I didn’t think you’d go ape at me.

Always saying I’m the cause.
Since we were kids you shouted the odds.
So sick of listening to this drone.
And so I’ll ask, do you ever not moan?

Rich from you for you’re no better.
I get it verbally as well as in each letter.
With the blah blah blah on repeat.
Anyone would think you never sleep.

Oh shut your mouth and listen well.
You talk as though you’re something swell.
But we’re not living in the nineteen forties.
Second decade past the noughties.

How about we part for good?
I agree I think we really should.
Then pack your bags and I’ll pack mine.
‘Til we burn in hell sounds real fine.
So I’ll go that way, while I’ll go this.
Separation has been pure bliss.
And to this day we’ve never reconnected.
I for one think that’s its super splendid.

Tale of two warring halves.
Neither could live alongside that.
Like ying and yang but in reverse.
To one another they were a curse.
Yet truth be told they never did split.
For they’re sections of a single digit.