Cuts and Blisters
One can live out his life with no baggage
but may hang on a rope to stay alive
a site seem as weak, bags out bad knowledge
to put its life in a box and deprive
from big cuts to acid lips, the damage
fun’s in the air, she only sees the jive
the one with the whip uses bad language
Poor lamb, joys not for the bull to arrive
with all the pain, luck yet has a say
a huge bill not from her, yet she must pay
a time to hit this foe will come someday
cos of her, rage from thin air flys faster
bad lips spit, even to her kid sister
she has to wake up and dry this blister.
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2016
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