Black Poetry : WHEN IT FELL

Lrae

Well-Known Member
REGISTERED MEMBER
Dec 25, 2015
116
80
Indiana, USA
www.facebook.com
It was all going well, chop chop, then the tree fell, wood turned to paper, getting bills through the mail, fed up, can’t you tell, stomp, kick, scream and yell, lay down on the sword, self impel, so that’s how the crack got in the bell, look forward to heaven, this is hell.

Run and tell, search through the closet find something to sell, the crab fell back in the pail, make it stand out like braille, get food for your family and end up in jail, like the farmer best run through the dell, why you eat spinach when you could have kale, creeping through life like a snail, feces smells.

Right on the nail, the story nobody should tell, how they left the bread out, it got stale, and the water dried up in the well, hidden like Oprah and Gayle, lies to dispel, ain’t running no drug cortel, just thinking and drinking Martell, waiting to exhale, while the media spins another tale, say farwell.

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