"abusers" poems
What's the difference between slavery and having dogs?
I mean when they do good we give them treats
same as when a slave does good we give them small incentives
when they are bad we punish them
the same thing with human slaves
we either are good dog lovers or dog abusers
the same as good masters and bad masters
we transport them numerously
the same with human slaves
we breed them
the same with human slaves
we give them this food called "dog food"
which is a low quality food given to human slaves
and the most obvious of all is dog collars and chains as to categorized them as property and to subconsciously "oppressed" them.
So is having a dog wrong?
A lot of people seem to treat dogs correctly
the dogs seems nice and happy
So was slavery okay?
I really don't know
You decide...
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 10:17 PM UTC
In society,
Women are always told they are too much.
Too angry, too calm
Too quiet, too loud
Too big, too small
And we are all of these things
We are angry.
Angry about the internalized oppression that still flows on a day to day basis. We are angry about our predefined roles of what girl is, what girl should be.
And we are too calm.
Calm about the man that called you a name in the street and all you wanted to do was cry
Or the teacher that told you you couldn't do what you wanted because it was a mans place, not a woman's
You should have yelled, but you didn't. Because we are too calm.
We are too quiet.
We are silenced.
Our opinions are ranked of worthiness by our physical features, our body types. Our intelligence is last to our ****** appeal. We can not be heard through the babble of social media judging and critiquing and pointing out our flaws. So we are quiet.
And we are loud.
We have the ability to speak for the world. To weave the revolution out of the words of women. We have the voice to speak to our sisters globally, teach women that we are loud. We can drown out prejudice with the power of voice and bring down the barrier of how a girl should be.
We are small.
Told that our personalities are preset by the gender normalities that the patriarchy has placed, we are shrunk to fit our predefined roles. They cut us into shapes so we can not realize that we are so much bigger.
Because we are big.
We are huge. We have global impact. While we are cut down, I would like to see us glue each other back together. I want to see women take back our voices. I want to hear women all over the world speak how they feel, bust through the barriers of what the patriarchy has told them. Fight back against their rapists, abusers, silencers. When someone tells you that you are being too much, say "I am. And I am becoming so much more."
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 9:34 PM UTC
Bus-riding, crumb-counting hand wringers
Bibble-babbler, channel-flipper slogan slingers
Keep the volume loud enough to drown out the machines
That fill their cupped hands daily with excrement and dreams
These are the ****** of the canon
Button-pushing, lever-pulling product users
Wife-buying, tax-paying alcohol abusers
Emasculated monkeys done up in black and white
Clock in in the morning and flock home late at night
These are the ****** of the canon
Train-conducting, ring-leading hand shakers
String-fingered, queue-cutting, man makers
Drive home, cursing, lonely, breaking bones beneath their wheels
Without the time to diagnose that emptiness they feel
These are the ****** of the canon
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
~¤~ω~¤⊙¤~ω¤~
My father told me
this is Love
how two people show
tender feelings for
one another
My father held me
so very close
I had always wanted
To be his Special Girl
Number One in our
cloistered world
My father used his charm
to keep me in his arms
till he was done with me.
Then I became
Uncomfortable
Inconsolable
Unreachable
Unlovable
I beseech abusers everywhere
Please let the children be.
~¤~ω~¤¥⊙¥⊙¥¤~ω¤~
~Moonflower~Fluer de Luna~April 2015~
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
Sometimes you just have to accept the things that you cannot change.
Like, you can compulsive lie your *** off but it still cannot change what is true.
They say that the truth is the
hardest pill to swallow,
so instead I crush it up and I snort it.
Even if there were things that I could change I fear I'll just make it even worse,
so I mission abort ****
I lack the ability to actually change me,
and my courage is cowardly.
I'm hopeless, but I really do hope
that things will hurt less.
I'm useless, but I don't think that
I'll ever use less.
If not this, then it would be that.
It's all relative Nonsense where overall
you were just another substance.
But who am I to deprive misery of
its love for company,
honestly how could I possibly
maintain stability and be granted
any serenity, when all that is
surrounding me and inside of me is constant insanity ?..
Yeah, it's called Drug Abuse,
but is the term "Drug Abuse"
and the overall meaning behind it
really that simple ?..
In which being limited to the technical bottom line meaning and stating that by doing drugs you are abusing those drugs.
Where in other words the users
are apparently the abusers of the drugs that they use,
but isn't it possible that the drugs
actually abuse us too ?..
Nov 30, 2018
Nov 30, 2018 at 4:38 PM UTC
Sometimes a man find himself
encased in a total stare.
Memories of the abusive one
whose aggressions he could
no longer bare.
No one would listen because
of the fact that he is
a man.
Nobody cared to go to his defense
nor tried to understand.
The gender card was exploited
and always on
full display.
Lies held against him will always
be until his abusers dying day.
Hurting inside because
the man forever lost
a child.
The abuser stands by watching
with an aggressive smile.
The abuser never cared
about nothing or the
damage she caused.
She was more concerned about
the good image to be lost.
What his child look like today
the man he just
cannot say.
He finds himself stuck with
the image of yesterday.
His abuser has purposely torn
away parts of his heart
for many years.
His eyes has never dried up
from the many tears.
Avoiding the abuser this man
had to be the one to pay
a lifetime price.
Escaping the claws of the abuser
the child became the
ultimate sacrifice.
Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 1:52 PM UTC
I tried to write about abuse
How the hitting makes the
Hurting ease
The shame and fear rage out and strike
Bleeding, pulsing crimson shrieks and shouts
Curling fists and guts
Determined to be done
To be finished with the fear and frustration
Cursing, blaming, hating another person
And yourself is somehow easier
More natural
When loving isn't easily
There, anywhere
Absent from awareness like
Light in the darkness jumping shadows
But then, I wasn't sure if I was writing about him or her...
Ouch.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 3:51 PM UTC
I am a ***** of the very worst kind
Not of *** and promiscuity
A ***** of my own
Creation
You come up on my radar
Latch
Seek
Destroy
And you will never know
Each and every one of my
Dead lovers
Never loved me back
Tear them up
Spit them out
Abandoned
Just like me
But I hurt
I feel emotion
Like clods of dirt
Inside my chest
Rip it open
Scream at each
Small thing
Wrong thing
I want only this
That I can never have
Curses
Plagues
Dead
Ex-lovers
Stars in their eyes
That look past my
Efforts
Hints
Advances
I am invisible
Invincible
Or so I like to think
The invisible *****
You never saw me coming
Till I cry these three tears
Drop
Drop
Drop
Two from the right
One from the left
Just like the rest
So many to name
That wouldn’t even know my
Hurt
Abandonment
What have you done to me?
Nothing
It is I
Only I
Want so desperately
To touch
To be touched
3 little tears come from
Within this cold hard
Clenched fist
Wetting my palm
Trying to escape
Flung at your calm
Silent face.
I want to be empty
I want to not feel this
Gift.
Emotion.
In the pit of my stomach
Back of my throat
Behind these eyes
Sick
And they fall
One
Two
Three
The time it takes to
Break
Die
Latch
Seek
Destroy
I am on a rampage
To eat each man up
Bone by bone
Flesh and blood
Thoughts and loves
Till I spew it all back out
To every person I meet
I am a ***** of the very worst kind
I’ve been everywhere
Nowhere
Inside everyone
No One
You cannot pay for me.
I’m too cheap.
You do not want me
I am curse
Brought on by
Liars
Abusers
Molesters
I am the product of
A past
Mistakes
And I want you to
Make me better
But I become
Worse
Liken me please
To those on the street
Full of disease
Because I am worth
Nothing
Of your time
Energy
Nothing
And I expect
Nothing more
Than this
Agonizingly
Painful
You
Are just like
Everyone else
That I never wanted you
To be
So much more than
Dead
Ex-lovers
Death from their lips
In long streams of wire
Attached at my wrists
Ankles
Binding me
Cutting deep
Blood
Red
Stains like my shirt
Cutting me
Scarring me
Until I feel so much
Nothing
And uncountable tears
Flood cities
Destroy taverns
Come knocking
Breaking free
Again
And again
And again
And you are
The same
As those
Starry-eyed, wire binding
Dead
Ex-Lovers
So much alive
Reminding me of every
Failure
Each scar on my wrist
In the form of a name
And now you join the rest
In this shallow unmarked grave
You are alone
With them
And I will
Consume this hurt
Like a breakfast
Of nails and tacks
Each bite will puncture
The last remaining composure
Till I am nothing once again
Radar
Radar
Detecting
Latch
Seek
Destroy
All over again
The very worst kind
Aug 13, 2011
Aug 13, 2011 at 6:58 PM UTC
There's now proof, that a Russian flesh-eating cannibal is in the good old US of A
He would offer you toxic ingredients, including gasoline and lighter fluid, I'd say
But, because its tell-tale scaly sores, are similar to another well known leacher
They initially played down concerns, saying, "they're not seeing signs of the creature"
My boyfriend had maggots coming out of his leg, after a recent foreign scare
I know people don't want to hear stuff like that, but it is really happening out there
Snap goes the toothless crocodile, one, two, three
Wangsta da Gangsta, had a great haul
Ring a ding a ling, 'cause they deliver the first for free
Jim and Joan went into da hood, to fetch nothin' much at all
They fall to the charlatans, that promise you a crystal ball
A little at first and then some more, that's for sure
It will make you snap, give you curls and dance you a little twirl
Star gazing thru the sun ray and day tripping into a wayward night
That's why if you use crocodile juice, it will do more than shake ya loose
Destroying our souls, creating huge holes and build mountains out of moles
Snap goes the toothless crocodile, one, two, three
Wangsta da Gangsta, had a great haul
Ring a ding a ling, 'cause they deliver the first for free
Jim and Joan went into da hood, to fetch nothin' much at all
Mr Jeffrey Vint has become less popular among his abusers
I say, "they're all losers", but I guess, beggars can't be choosers
Some mother's even gave birth with two thumbs, but those babies are now total ****
Others think the monster could be at large, maybe roaming your neighbourhood
Put a stop to this croc's chomp, before it destroys everything in the swamp
Get your doctor to prescribe a stronger drug, to conquer that evil imposter
Snap goes the toothless crocodile, one, two, three
Wangsta da Gangsta, had a great haul
Ring a ding a ling, 'cause they deliver the first for free
Jim and Joan went into da hood, to fetch nothin' much at all.
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 5:19 PM UTC
When I see the news stories
And read the vile comments
I’m reminded of my own
And how for him it’s past tense
But for me and for them
It’s every day
We live with that pain and that shame and that
Way of surviving
Like no one ever ripped out your heart
Like your dignity wasn’t stripped from you
Disbelieved in court
Ridiculed on Facebook
And ******* about in bars
‘This tortures him too’
‘He’s always been fine with me’
That’s what we hear when we try to seek
Validation from those who know our abusers
scepticism and the audacity to accuse us
Of being dramatic, of lying, exaggeration
Well tell me where is the dramatisation
In the fact that in my story when he was done
He wrote ‘No’ on my wall in permanent marker
To reminded him that next time ‘No’ is the answer
Like he should need reminding when he heard it from me
But I am a woman, was a girl
So you see
What I do doesn’t matter
Which sadly is proved
When today we read of Sarah Everard in the news
Mar 13, 2021
Mar 13, 2021 at 9:28 AM UTC
All day
New pains exposed
Hard work?
An understatement
It even hurts to write
Right now
Dirt and sweat mixed together
Sometimes with a little bit of blood
Oh how it burns when it flows
Into your eyes and into the small cuts
But
Hard work does offer some clarity
Some satisfaction
Some pride
Knowing that you worked hard
Is rewarding
But
It can **** patience
For complainers
Abusers and users
Freeloaders and those that made excuses
People forget that in order to make
Dreams come true
A certain amount of work is required
Sacrifice is necessary
If you really want something bad enough
You gotta chase your dreams down and work for them
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC
You can't take it
You can't live with it
The pain is too much
The kids at school
They keep hurting you
Or maybe it was your father
Maybe your mother
Maybe they're both dead
Like how you will be soon
Maybe you're in love with abusers
Maybe you are simply sad
But either way
You can't take it anymore
You take a rope from the attic
You grab a gun from the cuboard
You steal a knife from the kitchen
You're at the bridge over the river
You're on a railway with a train
Wherever you are
Whatever you have
It doesn't matter now
You take a rope from the attic
The kids at school
They taunt you and laugh
They say they wish you were dead
Well their wish is coming true
You're suffocating
You're silent
You're gone
You grab a gun from the cuboard
Safety is off
You're in your room
You whisper a goodbye
To the father who hurt you
To the brother who loves you
BANG
The shot can be heard for miles
You're gone
You steal a knife from the kitchen
Your mother's prying eyes
Who breaks your heart
With hateful words
You're in your bathroom
You hold the knife to your wrist
Your lifeline is bleeding out
The blood is on the white floor
You're gone
You're on a bridge
There's a cold and fast flowing
River of tears and sorrow
Your mother is gone
Your father is gone
Time for you to go
You leave your other family
Who are grieving with you
You jump
You fall
You're gone
You're at a railway with a train
Ready to hit you with pain
It wouldn't be the driver's fault
It was the abuser
You thought loved you
But you were wrong
You are hit by the train
It stops with your broken heart
You're gone
Where is the rope burn?
It burns your parents
They weep and wail
They lost their child
They're sunk into a sea of sadness
They read the note
They beg dear god above
" why were we not enough? "
Who did you shoot?
Your brother's chest
He's staring silently
At his sibling's dead body
As he stutters and sobs
He wonders
" why was I not enough? "
Who was stabbed?
Why your sister
She doesn't know who to talk to
She doesn't know who can help
As she screams for the neighbors
As your heartbeat stops
" why was I not enough? "
Who drowned?
The family you left behind
Your uncle is silent
Your aunt is shocked
Your cousins, your grandparents
They cant believe it
" why were we not enough? "
Where is the wound?
It bleeds in your friends' hearts
No matter how many you have
Or rather had
They can't stop crying
They can't stop thinking
" why were we not enough? "
Your name is in the papers
You're on the front covers
The world is full of tears
The news reporter is upset
There's a book with your name
There's ****** roses on your grave
Marked with your name
You stop
You think
You put away the rope
You put the gun back
You replace the knife
You walk away from the bridge
You run off the railway
You hide your tears in the rain
But you think
Think, think.
Maybe you can live one more day
Or two days, three days,
Four days, five days, six days
A week or two
A month or more
A year or so
Maybe forever
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 9:33 AM UTC
If you can speak your mind
Without a tone of thought towards the things you say,
If you can beat people with words
And blame them for the wrongs you display,
If you can understand what the hurt see
And turn a blind eye,
If you can imagine the wars that have been fought because of you
No would be left to illustrate the catastrophe,
If you can make people love you
Then cast out the people who state their opinion,
If you can openly criticize people
Then threaten the people, who try to fix the wrong done towards you,
If you can proclaim your life’s path as the way to follow
And then judge for any form of rebellion,
If you can finally wave the white flag
Will you finally accept the war reparations that are overdue,
The people’s heart is yours and that’s in it
Because you’ll be the face for the abusers,
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 11:38 PM UTC
liquid
substance
rocks
substance
smoke
substance
can’t remember
substance
which substance?
abuse
abuser
abusie
abooozie
*****
abuse
fill up my cup
abuse
fill up my pipe
abuse
fill up my syringe
abuse
fill up my veins
abuse
fill up my heart til it’s beating hard enough for me to feel alive
abuse
feed the mermaid in my kneecaps with glitter liquid
abuse
any kind
abuse
to make me forget
abuse
just want to use
abuse
to make me forget the pain
when he lays hands on me
lays his own
abuse
on me
someone once told me, substance abusers are weak
face your problems head on
why do you need to see stars before you wake up
why is coke your coffee
why is whiskey your orange juice
why is **** your pancakes
and I say
if I am weak
then how come I can cling onto the clouds
perhaps, if I could live to be 1000 years old
I will have clinged to the clouds long enough for them to get sick of me
but for now, those clouds are my demons
and I’ve never loved the color red
so much
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 9:25 PM UTC
Broke me and dropped me, treated me like ****
Ignored my every cry, and sadly this is it.
I'm done with how you make me cry and question why I'm here.
Never said a single word, but silence screams so clear.
You saw me dangling from above just simply hanging there.
But once again you walked away, I know you'll never care.
My world was turning upside down and I wanted your sweet light.
But every day now since you're gone is an even greater fight.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC
I'm scarred from the inside out, with bruises that have no color
hidden tears from years of pain,
A lump in my throat the size of Mt. Everest
No one knows my pain, no one cares
Each day in my head I hear my abusers voice telling
me I'm no good and calling me names.
This life I did not choose, I was born to my abuser
It's all I know, It's all I hear, I know no different.
These days will never end, and the pain will never go away.
I must pretend that everything is okay, because that's how others want me to be.
Copyright 2018
All rights reserved
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 5:11 PM UTC
Ones and Zeros
In the online digital world
Every boy and every girl
Are villains and heroes
Who knows which?
Son a of a *****
The truth is lies
Wrapped up in disguise
We want to believe
Electronic love we receive
Is not there to deceive
The flirting
The sexting
The online molexting
**** pic rejecting
Encrypted ascii code
Sent through internet nodes
Wireless whispers transmitted
Thoughts of endearment committed
Fact are conveniently omitted
Lies are ruthlessly submitted
Straight jacket
Packet hackers
Hijacking a loving heart
Holding it ransom is their art
Scourge of the community
Harassing
Surpassing
Any level of dignity
Players and haters
And the masturbators
The downright crazies
Acting like timid daisies
The cheaters
Defeaters
And quite possibly
Wife beaters
The losers
The boozers
Mentally abusers
The popular sexter
Who may not be a her
Quite possibly a guy
But will vehemently deny
The whiner
Data miner
The ********* seeking minor
The scammer
The Christian Damner
Super **** grammar
All thrown in together
With the digital picture collector
And still we’re looking all around
For love to be found
In a world of made believe
That anonymously deceives
We are ones seeking zeroes
Running into villains dressed up as heroes
Hearts shredded and deleted
Retreating and defeated
Yet somehow we try again
Hoping for something less than pain
We are all a little bit insane
Playing the online dating game
One’s and Zero’s
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 7:15 AM UTC
So she's leaving us
Driven out by the mindless idiots
Who infest this site
I had it with my last daily "Hope"
But the writer had less likes for all his poems
Than I've got in just one
We, we who write and post do it for one reason
We write because we love words
We DO not write for torrents of abuse
And so I say to you
Ignore the abusers because they are lessor people
Than you
There is no love in their words
Simply because they are incapable of expressing love
You, you the poets, you the true writers
Stay, ignore the idiots
YOU are the beating heart that keeps us alive
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 5:22 PM UTC
We're all ingredients in the humanity stew
The sad clowns
The prescription abusers
The chickens running around without their heads
This dish can never be out done
It's killing me
Ashes from Pompeii
The braces of teenage heart throbs
****** black and blues from abusive relationships
Fill the pots and pans
A homemade meal per say
Chain linked sausage fences
Add some Epsom salt
Some beef chuck
Giblets
And Simonides of Ceos
Daphoenus bones
A dentist and a retainer
Cornets, pirouettes and percocets
Awkward magazine subscriptions
You can buy the cookbook in all its opacity
See it in the Intrepid Museum
There is work to be done on Mount Olympus
Therefore we should go see a movie at the drive in
-Tommy Johnson
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
I haven't wrote in 2 years other than the other day, it felt good to write something again. April is National Child Abuse Awareness Month. I have always helped to spread all abuse awareness in April and I'm going to do it this April also.
We are creative writers, we know words hold power, so I'm hoping to see more of my fellow writers spread abuse awareness this month. If you do send me a message and I will share them. It's really important to spread abuse awareness but this year, it's even more important. Because of the pandemic more people have been cooped up with their abusers so unfortunately abuse has become worse. The spreading of awareness helps give victims hope and helps give people strength to not look the other way, to pick up that phone and make that call xover and over again if they have to. Please help out by even posting one poem on awareness that I will help highlight.
Apr 15, 2021
Apr 15, 2021 at 4:07 AM UTC
There are always tells with an abuse survivor.
My friend had a dog once that she adopted from a rescue shelter.
We do not know the home she came from before,
all we know is that she hates being left alone in a room with men,
she whimpers at loud noises, and sudden movements send her into hiding,
even now.
The first time you labelled yourself as an abuse survivor,
You felt like a sham.
There was no tell for you,
It'd never been hell for you to relate all the terrible things that boy had done,
You forgave him.
You preached your sins like a success story,
as if you mother had raised you with the right combination of strength and self-understanding to be immune to the world's poison,
you were sugar and spice and everything nice with just enough chemical X
to make girls wanna be like you.
The second time you called yourself abuse survivor,
you realized just how unbroken you were.
You smiled and laughed and loved without hesitation. Broken glasses don't send you into a pit of despair, you don't flinch when you hear his name.
You don't even miss him.
So who do you think you are?
You, the one who started the fights,
you were the one who left him.
And everyone knows abusers don't have hearts to break.
The boy doesn't smile anymore.
So you stopped calling yourself survivor.
Corrected others as they told the stories of grander,
demanded everyone admit the demonic part you had to play,
you monster, you beast, you manipulative liar.
You are no survivor.
A twisted sister with no bruises or scars, who stopped saying no and pushed back doesn't sound like a sob story to me,
a strong enough spine to walk no matter how long it took doesn't sound like recovery to me,
a girl looking for an audience's attention doesn't sound like a grown woman to me.
You are nothing but a misbehaved dog, so let them call you *****
Roll over and beg for the forgiveness you do not deserve.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry
The first time the new one called you survivor,
You were lying on the bathroom floor shouting apologies from beneath a veil of hair.
He picked you up and wiped the tears from you eyes.
Told you, it’s okay.
It wasn't.
But it will be.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 4:50 PM UTC
I fight for all those little girls in their tiny dresses
To be able to play outside, jump into that puddle of mud, and just love their lives, without being told that they're not ladylike
I fight for all those little boys who cry and aren't conforted, because "real men don't cry".
I want them to express their feelings, instead of becoming convinced that violence should be their only outlet.
I fight for all those little people who look at their bodies, and find they don't match the images in their heads, and automatically think "abnormal"
I want them to see their own beauty
I fight for all those women who are ***** without mercy and silenced when they dare speak up.
I want their strength acknowledged and respected.
I want their abusers destroyed.
I fight for all the people who are taught their bodies are shameful, and not worth celebrating.
I want them to be proud instead.
I fight for all those infants who are opperated on without their consent, in hopes of being made "normal", even at the cost of their health.
I want them to be left untampered with.
I fight for all the people who do not fit into the tiny little boxes society, and are deemed unworthy.
I want them to be celebrated.
You call me an angry feminist, hoping I would find it insulting.
Instead, I thank you. Because fighting for people is what feminism is all about.
If you saw that fighter in me, I can only be proud. It means I am not wasting my time here, like you are.
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 6:00 AM UTC
We’re in this,
no limits,
no gimmicks,
no scrimmage,
no sewage,
no sadness,
no losers,
so tragic,
the truth is,
abusers,
abuse but,
their tactics are madness,
so when they step,
we make them back track with,
apologies “So sorry please,
I didn’t mean to try to take,
all of your Light Energy.”,
ok I accept their pleas,
then tell the fickle fleas “Peace,
I think it’s time that all you flee.”,
And their gone,
along the whispers in the wind,
and we’re in the hammock again,
Scarlet and I off the mark and still high,
gone like the wind our world continues to spin,
distracted by our addictions,
which is apparent from the scars I wear on the body I’m currently in,
With red eyes,
no bullseye,
no bullSh!t,
just true facts,
think about the best thing you could ever do in your life,
and rest assured we’ve done are doing or will do that...
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Volume 1
The H Trilogy
City of Angels
I just published a new book.
If you could take a moment to check it out,
and even write a review it'd be most appreciated.
All profits go to a charity that prevents child abuse and ****** assault.
So not only are you getting an epic book of poetry,
but you're also supporting a good cause.
Thank you SO much!
∆
https://www.amazon.com/Trilogy-City-Angels-Aaron-Lux/dp/1535054328
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 10:21 PM UTC
Users and abusers
come one and all
there is a freak show
down in the glass house
winos and crack heads
coke freaks and nitrous suckers
acupuncture skin punctures
and candy land pill poppers
*** heads and shroom munchers
users and abusers
one and all
come on down to church
in the basement of the glass house
wet your tongue in holy water
and revel the gospel of our lord and savior
(Insert dead pop culture icon here)
and don't forget to pay the tithe
to mother superior
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 1:16 PM UTC