The Writer In Me Wants You To Know
I hope you find a way to forgive me mama
I've grown to be bad but blessed- more of the former
good sustains but crime makes me warmer
when my demons speak, everything gets slimmer.
Your beloved son has dropped way down from the best
I'm left only with the devil to contest
a being who is to himself, a pest
sustaining himself only when the town is hit with unrest.
All over the news is reported, the bank Job
the mastermind behind this is my friend Bob
in our notorious restroom he is the bathtub
so, on a big bank, just five young men successfully rob.
Guilt has become a wealthy landlord and ready to let
scenes from the robbery have glued my mind like magnet
I'm dangerous and filthy, but I never regret
the writer in me wants you to know, I won't forget.
Dear mother, you and myself, I betray
I've constantly exposed my life on a tray
and the future is as unclear as shady grey,
mama, please, never stop to pray.
I've made the heavens stop pouring snow
my no is yes and my yes is no
yet, I still write poetry even while this low
and the writer in me, wants you to know.
I have written a hundred poems and a few prose
danger is my twin and nothing comes close
you've trained me well with nurturing overdose
here I am giving you so much pain instead of rose.
It may have been better if I was a daughter
learning more to be homely when I was riding a scooter
I remember when simple courage, I could not muster
now, I simply pass a stream and it becomes dirty water.
I have left so many clues for the law not to miss
don't spare me this time mama, please go ahead and hiss
make sure my action and it consequence passionately kiss
the writer in me, wants you to know this.
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2021
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