How Much - Poem by Kirstie Duekett
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.
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