No mo' hurt
> Damn! him, mother Fletcher!
> I gave him my best years
> And I end up in tears.
>
> I truly need to let go
> I just can't take his sh- no mo'
> I hate it when I smell his t-shirt
> I hate it when I find his dirt
>
>
> I truly need to let go
> Growing in me this rage
>
> Like a killer on stage
> You know he going to strike
> You've seen the play
> At it's ending everything is ok
> Things will be done my way
> I am the super dish on the plate
> I am not little, I am not late
>
> Time to let go
> Time to be really free
> I need to know who is me.
>
>
> I've got one
> foot out of the door'
> All... his stuff in the middle of the floor
>
>
> Burnt the t-shirts
> Vacuumed up the dirt
> For this lady there is no mo' hurt.
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
Added by Poetry Lover
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