Ain't a poet
Never claimed to be
ODed over 29 times
Please don't look at me
Left for dead
Or at least for sure
With an on paper family
This, i assure.
But placing a baby
In a sexual bath
Claws away my face
My daddy and me.
Don't ever touch
Me now I can't understand
Why you dropped me mother
In this no whisper land
And there he was all dressed in black
Stuffing the baby in his sack
His pants below his waist, do-rag on his head
And below his hat, Santa had a dread
He was a rough-tuff, buff man
Rings on his fingers and tattoos on his hand
His sleigh was tricked out
It was a black and gold mustang with an engine that shout
Inserting drugs might be crazy
But that's exactly what he did to the baby
He took a needle and stuck it in her arm
Didn’t really care if he caused any harm
He used the baby as his lab rat
Testing drugs, using needles that were long and fat
When he stuck it in, the baby cried
She ODed and almost died
Santa just couldn't take it anymore
He shut the door and gave her what she was crying for
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.