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Sep 2018
In Hell I'll Be in good Company

****** love couldn't go no further.  Proud of and disgusted by her.  Push on a little bruise and battered. Ohh Lord baby, I ain't coming home with you.

My life's a bit more colder,  ****** wife is what I told her. Brass knife sinks into my shoulder....ahhh no baby don't know what I'm gonna do

I see my red head, messed bed, tear shed, queen bee, my squeeze. The stage it smells, tells, hell bells, miss spells, knocks me on my knees.

It didn't hurt flirt blood squirt stuffed shirt hang me on a tree.  After I count down three rounds in hell I'll be in good company.

©The Dead South
Semi-literate Poet
Written by
Semi-literate Poet
212
   Hisham Alshaikh and Rich Hues
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