Doing It Anyway Poem by Sheena Blackhall
Doing It Anyway
Don't spit. Don't back-chat. Don't be rude. Don't swear
I'm going to do it anyway. So there!
Don't play on Sunday. Pleasure is a sin
I'm going to do it anyway. Don't care
Don't lie. I know you're lying. You've gone red
Mother, you still control me though you're dead
Wednesday, July 6, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: death
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5/10/2024 4:37:27 AM # 1.0.0.1119
