"joystick" poems
Every time I touch a controller
I set a new highscore
I said a new highscore.
Look out behind you, mother ******
I capped that ***
You should've watched your back.
Now I got an L-shaped block
Watch as I drop it in that L-shaped slot.
Haters gotta throw the blue turtle shell,
Because they can't keep their kart on Rainbow Road.
Donkey's going to throw some barrels at me;
Don't worry princess, watch me jump.
I promise I won't get hit, not even once.
Hey there champ look right here;
I just stuck a plas grenade
On you right ear.
Lucky shot? So you say.
Still watching me tea-bag you
From the grave.
Pilot Wings, Punch-Out, Mario
Madden, Sonic or GTA
It doesn't really matter
The number of pixels we play.
D-Pad or joystick,
Night or day,
It doesn't really matter how you play,
Put me on tron I'll blow you away.
Turtles in Time:
You take that next slice.
Even blindfolded your no match
For my SuperScope.
Tony Hawk, what a joke!
In Pacman or Galaga in space
Even with the Kunami Code
You've got no hope.
So the next time you hear
Scorpion yell "Get over here!"
Have no fear
A Sonic Boom will soon be there.
Busting out Atari's Pong?
Noob, I'll pwn you
One-thousand to none.
Hell, not even Parapa the Rappa
Can touch my rhymes.
Read those initials
That score is mine.
I said read those initials;
That score is mine.
Jun 26, 2011
Jun 26, 2011 at 1:38 AM UTC
Robots know when to behave
1
Robot walks into the pub
and the arrogant human waiter says:
“Hey, we don’t serve robots”
But the robot smiles, and says:
“Sure – but you will, eventually”
Robots know when to be naughty
2
Robot each finds a seat
and the program sends up the heat
and the drama unfolds
She Robot:
Hello baby, you wanna touch my mouse,
don’t you? Sure, your lips say 0
but your titanium-bolt eyes say 1
He Robot:
Oh yeah, you sure get my drive hard
especially when you flash your software
O Baby, nice bolts - you wanna *****
Look, I touch your mouse, you touch my joystick
She Robot:
Look, you show me your source code
and I show you mine…oh, wow –
are those for real?
Or you got upgraded at Silicone Valley?
HeRobot:
Enough of chat, babe –
where can I crash on you tonight?
my docking station, or yours?
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 5:29 AM UTC
Typing furiously
The websites you administrated
The cool stuff you created
Dancing graciously
The pictures you enhanced
The movies you edited
Plucking gentle
The guitar strings
The songs you sing
Moving delicately
The way you put your chopstick
The way you stroke your joystick
Approach hungrily
Touching the sacred spots
Knead, caress, massage, pinch, rub, enter.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 7:34 AM UTC
You failed to take your Drone Control Command Kit
as you hurried off at dawn for work this early morn.
Unmindful, I mistook it for a fancy Xbox game contraption,
so commenced a match of Shock and Awe to while away the time
and with the joystick, hot and pulsing, quickly opened fire
at some evil bad-guy villains lurking down below
(nearby, a bus with random kids
confused, in fear and hiding).
Left quite a bit of childish crimson carnage flowing
on congested streets inside a city storming
somewhere…
thank goodness, very far away from here.
Please forgive me, for I think it was
your very last remaining
smart-precision missile…
yes, that pretty one you’d kept so long,
and meant to use some day to sanctify
a humble wedding-day reception…
but as you know I've always had a hang
for children's senseless macho playthings.
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 9:20 AM UTC
the blatant frustrations of live feed editing.
enter the tablet, joystick free, one touch games,
quiet interesting that it’s so hard
to get a gaming addiction with such games
as candy crush soda, family farm,
bubble witch 2...
you will not see an adrenaline tornado on these
platitudes, no movie like involvement,
no plot... just time contraints, money constraints,
the adequate reflection of life: hey mort! when you coming?
hey forthnight debility cheque! when you coming?
(i too thought tetris originated in japan,
but it was actually of soviet design!
so in conclusion: games designed to be as reflected
by someone doing a crossword - i'm crap at
those, being bilingual is obstructive -
i'm in constant translation mode looking
for picturesque synonymity - or doing sūdoku -
which i'm not too bad at.)
a bit like that jesus debacle, so gott insisted on giving
proof of his existence to a baby... bad move...
the kid grew up in a bubble and thought he could do anything...
elijah just said to the priests: but if your god doesn’t exist,
what’s the point of having you? later he repented
on mt. sinai where god was but a whisper...
like the whisper of the dream of what rome was at first:
a republic. i believe in republicanism, i don’t believe
in that shamble that’s known as democracy, and is currently
the biggest export from america... exported to usurp
other nation’s republicanism - the elders of afghanistan
will never be modern family mr. jason wordsmith and
mr. jack wordsmith, raising an adopted / surrogate mother’s
kid... not in a million years... nor will revised buddhism
in western europe ever be original shinto of japan...
not in a million years... we’re not a monochromatic people.
back to jesus: there’s not one shred of christianity in
jurisprudence (philosophy of law /
etymology: prudence of having a jury) - but when you’re faced
with an enemy who’s a lawyer, and has connections...
and you’re a poor idiot who was forced into a paranoid schizophrenia
simulation for 7 years... you don’t set out to attack
and get compensation like that woman schopenhauer pushed
down the stairs... you set out to prove god -
and subsequently leave the ******* in his own waiting
line for karma - i hardly think there will be an oliver twit
in him to ask for some more.
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 2:20 PM UTC
.
****
**** *****
Wiener Pecker U
nit ***** Piece T
ool Thing Shaft
Member Doink
er ***** Cack C
hour Chub Pud
******* Wanki
W a n g D ing
a ling Ding Don
g Kielbasa Brat
worst Meat Pop
sicle Meat ther
mometer Bolog
ny pony Salami
Sausage Tube
steak ****** P
orkSword Nood
le Banana Corn
dog Magic wan
d Staff Divine R
od Love muscle
Third leg Tonsi
l tickler Power
drill Jack hamm
er Wedding tac
kle Bat Club Rod
Pole Joystick Ja
ck-in-the-box S
kin flute D-trai
n Mr . Happy B
a ld - headed yo
gurt slinger Lon
g **** Silver Ji
my Johnson Kn
ob Captain Win
ky One eyed W
illy One eyed M
onster Peter On
e eyed trouser
snake The Sala
mander Horse
**** Lincoln lo
g Tootsie Roll F
Lesh trombone
Meat stick Meat
whistle Dobber
Wanger Woody
Shake weight T
iffy Frank and
the beans Ch o
a d t h e dirty
wise man *****
Harry nut cann
on Flesh flute
Satan's clarinet
Sexophone Th e Mayflower ( on
account of all the Puritans who came
on it ) The Wea p o n of A s s
destruction junk mail
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC
You used me like a joystick,
Played with my emotions.
You pressed me until I malfunctioned.
Should've known when I saw your Xbox (ex's box).
You had me running around 360.
Now that I'm broke,
You can no longer be controlling.
You had me in this love triangle,
O by the way your X (ex) is a square.
You selected to start this confusion,
And that wasn't fair,
Should've known you're a cheat.
We're on different platforms,
Get off my network,
Cause we can't connect on many levels like Wifi.
I believed in your game, but it was all fake, Syfy.
Your lies was graphic,
You left me stagnant,
And gave me the cold shoulder.
I'm pulling this cord,
Game over.
So **** off and get outta my system!
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 8:19 AM UTC
you plan to trap
to take a cut-
a ripening peach
with sugar bait?
you soil yourself
remove all sense
when all you have
you desecrate
her body sees, her body sees
'I'll take it now
she's just the size
to make me big
bend over chick
for she won't see
to mists she'll flee
I'll do a trick
with my joystick'
her inside sees, her inside sees
it's not all past
in spurting spray
a laughing squirt
bull at a gate
to steal a bud
the harshest crime
to rob a child
her life dictate
her body tells, her body tells
for it is seen
and registered
it's catalogued
in Judge's file
the breakage raw
her broken selves
you callous brute
are facing trial
and all can see
as you do now
the lies you told
you **********
Feb 15, 2021
Feb 15, 2021 at 5:41 AM UTC
a girl ends up saying:
'oh god, i miss my blonde hair',
a boy?
'oh god i miss Duran Duran.'
*meeting you... with a view to a ****
i want to stay up all night drinking
warm whiskey reminiscent of the
1980s;
honesty, just today a "nice Jewish boy"
with vanilla *** while
she got all the kinks out with
******* S & M to knock a few budgies
about in her leather knickers...
nice Jewish boy goes home vanilla intact;
i end up calling up the fire brigade
even though i should be calling Freud the popsicle
joystick friendly St. Paul, an ice-cream vendor
akin to Rasputin;
i know, comedians made fortunes from what
poets failed to compute, namely punctuation;
Eddie Izzard is a colon for each comma:
like zui quan - no, no, wait... there's more!
and it's worth an ingredients list of said hopes for
sat on **** forking the blob bits concerning argument
about ******* girth salt and pepper
on sausages! my excuse? the *carry
on* movies and zui quan meaning drunk boxing...
i.e. you pretend to be a tarantula that bit itself
by accident and pretended to be disorientated
but in fact focused like Hemingway on narration
after a cocktail of death in the afternoon
(absinthe mixed with champagne)...
but did i tell you that pine is almost like anise?
rub it into your hands after ******* in an alley
and it becomes the nearest approximate of anise.
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 10:30 PM UTC
Evacuate the cockpit,
Give me the joystick,
I am the one in control.
Enough of your decisions,
Enjoy my dominion,
This is what you deserve.
You don’t need to speak,
Go join with the weak,
I am not listening.
Don’t give me your emotion,
My plan is in motion,
There is nothing you can do.
How does it feel?
Your fate is sealed.
Helpless just like me.
See, I am weakest upon this ship,
My esteem drains drip by drip.
But you don’t know that.
Because I am in control.
Divide and conquer,
Narcissistic, off my rocker,
I am your ruler now.
Don’t look me in the eye,
Shut up and stand in line,
I. Am in. Control.
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 12:42 PM UTC
su sussidio... oh oh.
cashier tarah talks, talks,
really talks, 6 hours east
to sri lanka, 12 hour flight, 15 hours
back, mother in law died,
sorry, yeah, something
got my boy out of the womb,
dubai was lost
as a terminal worth docking at,
too much shopping
too little insomnia...
but i just came in for my whiskey
and my coca-cola...
chubby cheek tarah hasn't
asked me what i do...
oh you know, i write poetry,
the stuff pop artists are famous for...
not actually doing...
i was never a serious gamer,
from tetris and su doku i progressed
to candy crush sagas... you know,
i didn't get the multiple-choice narrative
and the lost joystick freedom
of up down east west,
instead getting short snips of a story
unfold with a quick-drawn press button
action draw of the story unfold;
i wish gaming appealed to me
like the way advertising companies
got fooled by the way television works
these days: oops, paused five minutes
into the show, then skim eyed the adverts
past not even caring to be influenced
by consumerism propaganda...
i love it, i can finally watch t.v. and skip
the adverts!
thanks for the detergent and salt and pepper,
raw materials on the ready,
you improve your aesthetics elsewhere,
i'll drink my cheap whiskey with
cheap phosphoric barley tinged caramel
cola quicker than you can say the tongue tie:
eager ****** had the weakest liver
bone munching onomatopoeias of ribcage rattle.
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 9:32 PM UTC
We were at a club in Paris called L’Arc. It’s an outdoor club (spring break plus covid safety) that’s underneath the Arc de Triomphe. It’s 10PM and we’re coming from a night tour of the Louvre. The night sky was clear and it was 65°f. I was with my posse of (3) roommates and two guardiennes (provided by my Grandmère) who travel with us at all times.
The man chatting me up was as hot as middle-school but honestly, it was hard to fake an interest in whatever he was saying. Was my ½ interest going to ruin us - this thing we’d shared for 5 minutes? No, he seemed to say, our connection was stronger than that.
Finally, I focused on his WORDS. It was hard because the music was so loud. Hey, this is off-topic but who’s your favorite French band? You don’t HAVE one, do you? No, because they ALL positively felate.
It turns out that he was a tiger - inviting me home for a respectfully quiet banging session - because he lived with his mother. I reacted like any college freshman would at first by thinking I was about to be sick.
Don’t flag me as antisex (If we’re flagging), I like a joystick now and then. They’re cute and like dogs, they’re always glad to see you. But the idea was disgustingly retro - my parent dodging days are over. Besides, our (roommate) agreement for this trip ostensibly forbids random hookups and did I mention our two escorts in tow?
I kept my cool. After all, we had another tray of shooters coming - staying put was clearly the right decision. He took my semi-blank reaction for the rejection it was and disappeared back into the crowd. C'est la vie
Mar 23, 2022
Mar 23, 2022 at 12:33 PM UTC
Countries fabricated
by roaming people drawing
borders behind them,
trails of hostility
to select those who would cross
rims after them, to keep
resources to themselves,
lands of prosperity
on which to build, greed
homes to shield,
newly engendered families
xenophobes,
induced to believe
by governors they are different,
they are better, superior
and ultimately worth
much more, than any stranger
standing on the other side
of imaginary lines, they are barbarians,
unbelonging
to great civilisations, against whom
we need protection,
stealing scientists
left right and centre,
research peddled as development
promising a high from nuclear weapons,
bombs called mothers to adore
campaigning over a grand potency
participating in, an international
mallet-measuring contest
whilst signing accords,
for those who have to keep
and those who don’t
not to aspire, to acquire,
a prize for populations
who have successfully or can
destroy approaching aliens
simply by, pressing the right button
on a joystick suitable for games,
of mass destruction
ten thousand nuclear warheads
ready for use.
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 6:55 AM UTC
In the depths of my basement
Hidden behind the christmas decorations
And under the family albums
Lies a box waiting to be discovered
It holds a legend from a bygone era
The atari 2600
It may be the grandfather of gaming
But it still plays like it's 1977
It's been going strong for forty years
But my laptop called it quits after five
You have to start with the classics
Like Pacman pitfall and pong
Galaga asteroids and dig dug
All of them in glorious 8 bits
A throwback to simpler times
When there were no updates to download
Nothing to install to the hard drive
12 year Olds didn't mock you online
It was just you and a joystick
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 2:13 AM UTC
When You are not here with me
As I look into the mirror
I know that this man in front of me is so weary
I cant understand why is this happening
Emptiness will cover my face
I dont want this situation blinded my focus
Come now, king over this world of mine
Get me back into Your arms
You are the one who is called faithful
Embrace me into Your unfailing love
Dont leave here hanging and astray
I want to inherit Your promises
Because this things will carry me to the green pasture
In this life, You know me as weak and timid
I cant do such things that bring You glory
Im full of doubt and disobedience
Forgive me for I never dance as You wanted
Take this fear that always darken my ways
Plant a seed so that one day I will gather and harvest all the fruits that is in it
Breathe to me once again, this time
For me have hope and insights
As I walk through this waters
When I am brokenhearted I have no idea where should I turn,
but when I saw You waving Your hands
I know that You can help me to overcome this
As I put my trust in You, blessing had been been filled the void of my life
And numerous of that inside in my heart
Guide my desires to please You
Let our light shine through me
Im really wanted the one to happen
Through Your Spirit, im become victorious
In action, in speech and in my thought life
Im grateful that You have save me from myself
because I really hate it when I am holding the joystick
Selfishness will become the front man
Stop this guy before he will start his sing
Cover your ears, you people around this dude
Close your eyes dont copy his appearance
Change the mindset of this guy
Lord, I believe that You can
Fight for me now in this battle
Im called to be Your soldier
Prepare me alongside with Your troupe
So that we can truly win this war
Through Your grace that surrounds me
All glory belongs to You
Its all about You, My King
May 15, 2010
May 15, 2010 at 1:08 AM UTC
Fleeting era;
Blossom of humanity;
I caught you by the tail,
And now you’re slipping out of my hand.
As we pack ourselves tighter in;
As we close the gaps with our wondrous tools;
We lose our colour,
And melt together.
Tolerance, gift of our violence.
You paint our faces all the same.
I cannot deny your higher road.
I cannot deny my head is turned,
While being driven on with the rest of us.
Like an arrow through a vacuum we fly.
feeling the oscillation of the shaft,
looking down its length at one moment,
and not being able to see over the curve the next.
Pointing at the flex from our momentary vantage.
as if we or they were responsible,
and not the bow
that fired us long long ago.
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 10:10 PM UTC
War by proxy,
the future of conflict
super powers clashing
on foreign soil
in battles fought by locals
divided into camps
pitted against their own
for differing convictions
not for the lack of reasons;
fuel to the fire added
by their recruiters
propaganda,
subterfuge,
subversion;
no need to worry about ordnance
and military hardware,
ammo and suplies
they will be provided
duly
by the sponsors;
the agenda is
to drown a patch of land in blood,
with an island built from bones
lonely in the middle,
just big enough for a g-man
to set foot upon,
tie the laces of his boot;
an then move on.
But what of all the residue?
Nothing goes to waste
all will be reused
blood to fuel
bones to amunition
surviving souls to generations of hate slaves
If you're elsewhere building an oasis
somewhere peaceful, someplace quiet,
watch your back and keep an eye
on the silent sky
there are birds of steel and wires
with their artificial brains
roaming, cruising, watching,
their senses and their talons
lent to their
puppeteers, mere employees
looking for a chance,
at that multikill promotion
fingers itching at the joystick...
but outside and back at home,
a prison cell of boredom
waits to chew them in slow motion
to the bombed and the bombing,
to the greedy and the mourning,
we don't call this life
hell is real
we're both prey and hunter
madness is contagious and haunting
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 7:29 AM UTC
*quivering joystick
mellow honeypot
perfect blend!
fantasies
exciting hues
life is kicking!
huge dreams
coupled creations
cream puff realization!
dimples and smiling eyes
pretty gums drooling
sunshine babies!
art on the clouds
mad shapes
psychedelia anew!
o the futility
wishes were horses
flight and dissipation!*
Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 1:12 AM UTC
Silky hair even when not washed
Beautiful round eyes that shimmer at the site of something it loves
A beating heart that matches mine in sync
Icy cold fingers that latch around mine in a blink
Bash the buttons as you play with my hair
And hold me tightly to make me aware
**** the mutant creatures as you kiss me ever so lovingly
Feel my blood pumping as you rip my heart out ever so slowly
Beauty in a controller
because that’s all you play
my heart and the joystick
it’s all yours
it’s your game
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 1:49 AM UTC
*i shouldn't equate so much feeling for a ********** but you'll soon be equated as one, even though you quenched the ore thirst, and yet turned to alloy of such thirst that could not be quenched, i.e. a ********** that turned into a digitalised bedroom fancy, a whore-of-no-touch... what the **** is that for? a ******* joystick? me pay for a **** that's what you became dear friend, a would be murderer where the victim attached your ******** to himself and you were left in a prison without confessions or restrictions, with your mother's appealing face lied into.*
i came here for the beauty,
i didn't come here for the everyday;
tragedy that i've seen enough beauty
that it became everyday,
tragedy that i could't make the everyday
a beatified bounty, thus easily
accounted for in mirage of question, thought, answer
and not the custom of men
that might be a worthwhile pairing,
a known marriage, an unknown art;
( tears )
all my love i will to cannibalise you;
eerie i may be, but you practice law,
a doubled lie, and you earn your worth by
those who never cared to moralise from genesis
but from exodus.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 7:45 PM UTC
Sound:
The hum of a patient amp
wraps around your moving lips
A silent symphony screams in my ears
but grows silent
as the clean ring of a guitar
flows from your dancing fingers
Dial up the gain
I can hear the toast crumbs
against chilling marmalade
hear the sing of smoke-ridden lungs
with the crisp chirp of an early bird.
Touch:
Callused taps
steel strings warmed
from fleeting fingers sliding up
and down the brisk wooden limb
waking up from its slumber.
Soft groove of a joystick
sweaty plastic buttons
you were the exciting buzz
that vibrated in my palm
when I hit that combo
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 5:51 AM UTC
My heart couldn’t take the pressure
It got too greedy, tried to take the pleasure
I write to express how I manage to control the stress
Your good looks would be great to measure
Takin’ the time to describe you
And I hope to be the one right beside you
Cause I can’t seem to picture anybody else
One of a kind, more than happy to remind you
Sobriety absent, respect the attraction, I start to see double
And at the same time that I’m lookin’ to cuddle, you lookin’ for trouble
A kiss on the neck and you gasp for pleasure, our happy hour
We control the power, really happy with the time that we spend with each other
Rippin’ ya dress, I don’t need that light
Kissin’ ya chest and we feel like kites
I hear your heartbeat, your pulse is risin’
Not surprised that I keep you on your feet all night
Thinkin' I want you in my life
And entertain you as my wife
Give you the world with a boy and a girl
Isolated from the rest, we’re the best, that’s right
Reachin’ the limits of our love, we fight
Holdin’ the gun, takin’ shots on sight
Nobody hurt, but the spirit is broken
Quick to regret all the words that were spoken
We’re playin’ a game that ain’t worth the token
You hold the joystick but the screen is blank
We fell asleep, neither one was awoken
Can’t place a name on who to thank
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC
memory selects its future and trauma stops to eat. we are in the Ohio of dieting apparitions. oh, some cigarette made to last. a buried joystick.
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 7:59 PM UTC
this alteh kocker nostalgically reflects
being ma late mama's boytchik
(now, she long since deceased,
whose cremated remains of day
scattered to all points on compass)
fondly referencing
both sisters as dabchick
incongruously sprinkled her Brooklyn brogue,
especially when angry, she quickly segued
from mild expletive fiddlestick
the latter playfully aired,
when kibitzing wit bubeleh
reminiscing being dirt poor,
nonetheless zee mother
every now an again homesick
regaling the whole mishpokhe
(meaning us brood of kids)
interrupting herself
with frequent non sequiturs
discombobulated anecdotes switching subjects
as if external forcefield
jimmying a joystick
interleaving disparate threads with subsequent
tangential linkedin snippets
with feigned lovesick
chatting 'bout cockamamie
"Grandpa Moishe"
and his chaim yankel posse
(to escape hen pecking nudnik
"grandma Rebecca"),
a trenchant termagent bubba,
not averse to incorporate dreck
in the same sentence with zayda
ostracized him
scoring figurative placekick,
whence upon his schlepping back home
met with "silent treatment" dampening rollick
king atmosphere choking tearfully
"mother" recounted
farblunget anger thick
lee palpable extremely discomfiting,
particularly when ("mom's")
girlhood friends bore witness aye gavalt,
where penury churned moribund thoughts
viz empty cupboards
devoid of bare necessities
a figurative apropos yardstick.
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
Phone call: "hey babe, what time are you gonna be back from work?
You need to show up on our date...
By the way, happy Valentine's day Kimberly!"
Fourteenth February; little Kimberly delayed at the library
By her boss Mr hamesty
Arranging books to get her salary,
Going home around twenty three-
Walking on a dangerous Street,
Missed a date with her charming prince
Her phone- she couldn't answer it
Because she knew that her boyfriend was ******
Home- thirty more minutes till she reached...
Didn't know that she was being followed by three ***** creeps...
The first one whispered "uh looks like we have found ourselves some meat"
The next one whispered "uh looks so Sweet"
The third one shouted " that's some tight **** We going up in this *****
Kimberly was alarmed and tried to be athletic
Screaming "help I am being followed by a ****** thirsty savage!"
These ****** laughed like hyenas fully energetic
Because the area was empty and so silent,
Caught her with an easy tactic,
Her Prada pumps kicked and kicked
While they filled her mouth with ***** stockens
The first one broke her phone and held her hands
The next one held her legs after taking her wallet,
The third one ripped her clothes so barbaric
***** broken by a gigantic ****
Forcing it's way in like a plumber stick
19year old girl turned into a joystick
She fainted while they repeatedly switched,
Praying it was a nightmare in her bedsheets...
She mastered their voices and faces so quick,
They continued till O'six and dumped her body in a ditch
They left her covered in spit and almost dislocated her feet,
After two hours of display in public
A good Samaritan rushed her in to a clinic
That day she was left traumatized thinking of suicide
Totally petrified wishing she had just died
As much as I would like to rewind
Let us fast forward to after two months
Kimberly purchased some guns
And decided it was about time
11pm
She took a walk in the same street fully armed
To her surprise
The same guys showed up
Ready to have their jocks satisfied
Till they saw shiny glocks pointing them right in the eyes
With no mercy she pulled the trigger
And ended up behind bars
For killing the men who destroyed her life.
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 11:38 AM UTC