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Mikie Writes Poetry

No Title….yet

I’ve been fucked
and stuck
I’ve been Poked
and Broke
I’ve been bagged
and tagged
And all I wanna do is Cope,
Hope that this is a lie
That those words you Spoke
Really won’t make me die
I’ve been up
I’ve been down
I’ve done stepped up
I’ve been thrown to the ground
I’ve become irate
Within this fucked up state
Throw me on the slab
And begin to operate
Cause I’m sick in the head
And I need a cure.
I love you like I love stale doritos
Throw cheetos in your face
Like they’re some kinda mace
Maybe some sugar on the top
Easy Mac your cheesy ass
Or some ramen to make it last
I’m sorry I got a little hungry
But between I’scream and gettin creamed
I’m spittin a rhyme that’s just slightly off scheme
Now back to the point
I’ve been hip
I’ve been hot
I’ve been wack
Now I’m back
And my name is Mikie
Don’t mind if I add a little kool
Cause it’s time I took you back to school
So sit back in that bleacher
Here comes your favorite teacher
Here to say
I’ve become irate
Within this fucked up state
Throw me on the slab
And begin to operate
Cause I’m sick in the head
And I need a cure.
I saw you there
In my place
My space My weathered lair
Far, far down, deep in the
tombs of my mind
I witnessed you
You and your atrocities
And what you did to me
or what you were goin to do
I’ve lost feeling
No chance of healing
It’s Apparent
That your inherent
Defeat is appropriate
Within the Opiate
I’ve become irate
Within this fucked up state
Throw me on the slab
And begin to operate
Cause I’m sick in the head
And I need a cure
Cause one things for sure
Without it I’m dead

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