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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Teen · #1797239
A poem created after rethinking my troubled youth as a I struggled to make friends.
Bully

I knew this kid named Oscar the Grouch, the bastard had no pouch.
He sucked his grandma’s cock on the “Mother-Fucking” couch.
Then there was Ben, what a fucking pain he got laid, over and over the fuck again.
I had no life in middle school, all I did was masturbated.
Then Ben went home sick, ah fuck, that little bastard fucked it.

Hey Bitch! You Witch! Don’t burn the shit this time.
How about you give me the pen and turn up the limelight.
Mama never fucked this much with me, why me?
Make me eat this shit, why don’t you eat it, S.O.B?
I’m fed up, fed up with you.
The mockingbird sings, it’s mocking your face.
The tree’s limbs, they’re my best friends.
Shithead, you stomp around my head and shake the place.
Got no voice to mumble with, guess poetry will have to do.
The lines, they thicken. The trees whistle.
They whistle to the tune of “Mary Lou”.
What the fucks “Mary Lou”? I’ve never heard of that song.
I invented it bastard. Don’t make fun of me yet.
James was my only friend as a kid.
He was half train half man, what had to fuck to make that?
He showed me his dick once and I sucked it.
Then he pulled out a vagina and I fucked it.
Man, you got an attitude, don’t grow and extra tit.
Depantsing, T-Bagging, all the names mean something.
I’m a toy to fuck with. No more, no less.
If I fuck with you my shits going into my brain.
God, why don’t you just kick my chair from underneath me while you’re at it?
You suck, I hate you.

-Fredrick W.
© Copyright 2011 Fredrick Willfull (onasummerseve at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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