Prince Korede Abiodun


Bloated


Run, run, baby runaway, my charm don't fail;
Take to your heels,
I'm that tick-time bomb on self destruct;
Do not ask for promises, that I stop keeping and making.
The backpack on my shoulder has given me an akward gait,
And time keeps ticking on
Run away baby before you get struck;
Baby run before you get stuck;
Run, run, baby runaway.

Submitted: Wednesday, October 24, 2012

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

I thank my father, for his joke about bloated scrotum

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