F*** Your Ode

I’m glad that you’re there, right next to me you lay

So I don’t have to stand up again to switch on anything

That momentary relaxation is worth everything

So I hope you understand your importance to me

Shut the f*** up! to the wall you threw me!

You think I would let that shit slide?!

Whenever you’re angry I lose a slice!

Why should I give a f*** if your favourite team loses?

I’m covered in injuries and bruises!

All I did was change the damn channel

And here I am with a missing front panel

Every part of me you throw and dismantle

And yet you get annoyed when I don’t work. I’m f***ing fragile!

You never gave a shit for me anyways

Always leaving me on the floor or hallways

Of tucked under a stinky couch cushion

People sitting on me when they lose their footing

I smell all kinds of farts and urine

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Don’t even get me started on my cousin the controller

Probably the most abused on form

Losing games gets him decimated

No matter what he does, from that fate he’s never liberated

Feeling his insides move around and crumble

Often times I feel sorry for him and humbled

While I do get thrown around

Never to that extent, where functions are jumbled

So next time you write an ode to my kind

To reality don’t be f***ing blind!

We’re always treated like pieces of turds

Actions are always louder than words

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Author's note: I'm sure if remote controls had a voice, this is what they would say. This is a reply to my Ode to remote controls, which you can read below: