Black Magic Powder
I slither out from the rock I rest
Not feeling so bright, not the best
My face feels fake, like a painted clown
Nothing phases me, my expression, a frown
One thing I'm sure get me into the shower
So I scoop one-half cup of the black magic powder
Into the pot the black magic goes
The aroma, tantalizing, into my nose
A mystical potion, poured into the cup
About enough, to wake a bull up
I took a drink, from the abyss
Like a shot from an arrow, awoke my senses
The more I drank, the better I felt
Like getting whipped with a fine, leather belt
Revived I was, alive as could be
But for how much longer? We shall see
All was well, until the seventh hour
Twas time for some more, black magic powder
I made it through the day, it was a blast
The best part of it, was the part where I crashed
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
