Poetry · Writing

champion

pick ya feet up

not a three legged pup

i watched you sprint up and down the street

screaming from a stop sign you don’t know defeat

now limping around

on the stand is a crown

lyin’ around

now you got your feet up

stay up you are ’bouta blow up

don’t move; this is your close up

hit it with concrete

keep your receipt

you’re on the hot seat;

goodbye-

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