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But every word you speak just makes it worse forever.
Your jokes fall flat, your smile’s a chore,
You’re like the knock-off version of a bore.
Your charm’s a myth, a story told,
A half-worn tale that’s grown too old.
You wear your ego like a second skin,
But I’d rather be alone than suffer your grin.
You walk in loud, but leave no trace,
Like a ghost in a room with an empty space.
I’d say "goodbye" but I’m too kind,
Let’s just call this what it is: a waste of time.
Oh, George, you’re truly one of a kind,
But unfortunately, it's the worst kind to find.
They don’t just show up—they make an entrance. Every word they speak lingers in the air, charged with a delicious tension that leaves you hanging on to every syllable. It’s the way they move, how they know exactly how to make you crave their attention, their touch, their everything. They don’t need to try; they own the room without saying a word, but when they do speak? It’s like an invitation to something deeper, darker, and far more intoxicating than you could have ever imagined.
This man isn’t just a good human being—he’s a fantasy wrapped in a cozy sweater, oozing charm, confidence, and just enough filth to leave you blushing and begging for more. When they say “1 in a billion,” they’re not exaggerating—he’s the kind of person who makes you believe in miracles... and maybe even a little bit of magic.