Poetry

Terminally Ill

I’m a slicker city
Shining like a city sticker on a Maserati
Or a blue striped shark Bugatti
I’m like otti when I show my body
I’m crazy I’m handsome
I’m lazy I’m ransom
In highschool I ran some
From rival gangs
My idols slain
They died in drive-bys
One even had his wake shot up
Out of the coma I got up from
I think your occupation is dumb

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