Just a poem I wrote, walking to class.

I'm Sure You'll Call Me Next Thursday

I'm sure I'll still be cold next Thursday
I'm sure he'll still be a complete idiot next Thursday
I'm sure she'll still look like a slut next Thursday
I'm sure he'll still be black next Thursday
I'm sure she'll still look disgusted with herself next Thursday
I'm sure he'll still be a total douchebag next Thursday
I'm sure he'll still have a beard next Thursday
I'm sure he'll still be a fat-ass next Thursday
I'm sure she'll still have that blank look next Thursday
I'm sure he'll still look like a gay version of my friend Michael next Thursday
I'm sure she'll still obviously be a bitch next Thursday
I'm sure I'll still be a judgmental asshole next Thursday