putting on airs in poetry

no mere material inheritor she
was rather an heiress to Eris
goddess of strife and discord
it was what we loved her for
she was an heiress
to strife and discord
we often feared for our lives
but we were rarely ever bored
so often in error were we
to share her rarified air
but it was difficult to care
her madness was enchanting
even if we were recanting
when she decided to burn down
the entire motherfucking town
but this is how it goes
when you are a lonely boy
you give in and accept
both sides of the coin
and flip
and flip
and flip
as long as it comes up good
til it busts you in the lip
there’s nothing else
that I could ever do
when such an opportunity
comes through