The Season Of The Bitch

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


The Season Of The Bitch



we as a society are drifting further away from what we left behind is this a call or a sign you wear make up to cover your inner beauty you pout, scream & moan you drift along like a loose cannon
planting seeds of disaster never to prepare for the great here after yet inside you stand alone like a dog without a bone hiding behind the Willow tree still some beg to differ or may disagree like
I often thin will she be the one to marry me P.M.S. is an every day battle & test behind the squeaky wheel



no notion of love in her heart she can give a flying fart like a soul drifting apart yet in every season turns one soul soars while the other one burns you base your reality of what is in vanity
your life is a drama based upon tragedy living in calamity as if its some comedy you had your place in the sun now your to gone eyes with spots having holes taking off all of your clothes you get
meaner by the day paying no homage to ever bow the knee to pray but you insist on having it your own way closed minded zombies in a world torn up in madness break through the sadness so that you
can set yourself free this is my one last final plea

Submitted: September 26, 2017

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Submitted: September 26, 2017

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A A A


 

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we as a society are drifting

further away from what we left behind

is this a call or a sign

you wear make up to cover your inner beauty

you pout, scream & moan

you drift along like a loose cannon

planting seeds of disaster

never to prepare for the great here after

yet inside you stand alone

like a dog without a bone

hiding behind the Willow tree

still some beg to differ or may disagree

like I often thin will she be the one to marry me

P.M.S. is an every day battle & test

behind the squeaky wheel

?

no notion of love in her heart

she can give a flying fart

like a soul drifting apart

yet in every season turns

one soul soars while the other one burns

you base your reality of what is in vanity

your life is a drama based upon tragedy

living in calamity as if its some comedy

you had your place in the sun now your to gone

eyes with spots having holes

taking off all of your clothes

you get meaner by the day

paying no homage to ever bow the knee to pray

but you insist on having it your own way

closed minded zombies in a world torn up in madness

break through the sadness so that you can set yourself free

this is my one last final plea

?


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