Ticket price on the street,
What disgusting old pervit will I meet.
I want to mess with my soul,
Sell my big fat hole.
I don't care if I get no money today,
It just is a way to painfully kill myself inside hey.
Go along all you tight hole dawgs,
Stuff me up I need a good flog.
I would not flog you, let them flog you... you need not pain, nor price on your name. You need a touch, so magically sweet, You need a smile, one that says trust when we meet. You need a friend, that needs nothing in return. And as You read my words... the walls start to burn. _Christy, your words say more than most would comprehend... but are not lost with me. Beware of promises and just know that your words have the power to reach others... just use your magic wisely. I applaud you, and your words... I'm impressed. Keep writing, look forward to reading more. Thanks for sharing your Graet Ink! :) -Kelly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
@ Kelly, I read your words and automatically my eyes are teary, my question Beware of promises and just know that your words have the power to reach others... just use your magic wisely. what does this statement actually mean?