You can't get away with calling my mom those names
I'm done playing your games
Six, seven, eight, bottles of beer
Just shows how much you care
Calling her a bitch
Makes you feel rich
That's pretty pathetic
Even for a man so unsympathetic
Leave for the night
Come back and make things 'right'
Day after day
I'm tired of your ways
As soon as you slip
I'll turn you into a sinking ship
Bring you down mentally
Make it look coincidentally
Have them take you physically
Tear you apart so viciously
I'll put you in a jail cell
Make it seem worse than hell
You can call me Satan
I'll be waitin'.
***Again, nothing against religion. I'm just frustrated.*
YOU ARE READING
My Poetic Escape
PoetryPoems *Yes I keep track every time I see I have a new rating for my own personal amusement* #242 in Poetry - 12/16/14 #149 in Poetry - 12/21/14 #111 in Poetry - 12/22/14 #83 in Poetry - 12/24/14
