Jesus Pot Pie

I once had a friend who really liked Jesus.
Let’s call her Skinny Genes.

Well, she honestly thought he could pick up her pieces,
But I knew deep down inside there is no such thing as un-raping someone.

Well, she smoked a lot of pot and never did nuffin’.
Wonder what Jesus would say if he saw her huffin’.

She had volumes of issues and she’d read me each edition; about how her father’s death and her mother’s abusive volition. And while I felt bad, she’d make me mad, the hypocritical, argumentative type, you know?

After a while, I’d pretend to care and I’d see her tell her triumphant stories of sad and profound, then she’d walk away with a lie and glare.

So, I giggled in my head whenever she came around.
She said one day she was going to starve herself to death.
I wanted to laugh out loud…but she was serious.
Anyways, isn’t suicide supposed to be impious?
Well she didn’t eat for one whole day.

SCANDALOUS

Then she showed me the cuts she made on her wrists
And laughed about her friend who said her cat did this,
“Instead of just admitting she’s a cutter—cause what’s the big deal, am I right?”
Then we had this big fake fight,
I’d say I won.

She came back crawling, I still don’t know why
I never really liked her and her Jesus pot pie.