No Mo' Hurt Poem by kwane Lamb

Damn! him, mother Fletcher!
I gave him my best years
And I end up in tears.

I truly need to let go
I just can't take his sh- no mo'
I hate it when I smell his t-shirt
I hate it when I find his dirt


I truly need to let go
Growing in me this rage

Like a killer on stage
You know he going to strike
You've seen the play
At it's ending everything is ok
Things will be done my way
I am the super dish on the plate
I am not little, I am not late

Time to let go
Time to be really free
I need to know who is me.


I've got one
foot out of the door'
All... his stuff in the middle of the floor


Burnt the t-shirts
Vacuumed up the dirt
For this lady there is no mo' hurt.