Counterfeit Bills
I'd like to say it was just a dream but it was real.
The cops arrested me for passing counterfeit bills.
My bank gave me twenty one hundred dollar bills that were counterfeit.
When I found out, the police had to use tear gas because I had a fit.
After I cried like a two year old, i was thrown in jail.
I had to sell my body organs so that I could make bail.
But now they want my organs even though I'm not dead.
They don't intend to wait, they want them now instead.
I have no money to buy food and I feel light headed and giddy.
My electricity was cut off last night, those bastards have no pity.
Because I haven't eaten, I sure have gotten bony.
And it's because of that money that was phony.
When I can't pay the bill collectors, I constantly get hit.
Don't do business with my bank or you'll receive cash that is counterfeit.
Copyright © Randy Johnson | Year Posted 2018
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