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Poetry By: palewriter

Runnin with those older boys is bound to do you in.

Submitted:Aug 21, 2009    Reads: 255    Comments: 15    Likes: 8   

Katie-bell, baby-bell, your acting too darn bold,
This crib you're in belonged to me when I was two months old.

Katie-bell, Child-bell, what are you up to now?
Rippin heads off baby dolls and tearin up the house.

Katie-bell, Teenage-bell, tell me where've you been?
Runnin with those older boys is bound to do you in.

Katie-bell, troubled-bell, no wonder you're in jail,
That deadly grip of drugs has finally grabbed you by the tail.


Katie-bell, Tragic-bell, the cops were at our door.
Your seatbelt was unfastened and your beer was on the floor.

Katie-bell Silent-bell, you look like you are asleep.
This pillow in your casket feels so silky and so sleek.

Katie-bell, Angel bell, I hope that you're above?
This yearning heart is what I use to send you all my love.


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