Pimp

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    Pimp

    So desperate she wants to belong 
    Being way too friendly on the phone
    When people ask what’s become of she
    She  simply tells them I’m  p.i.m.p

    She says she gets money because she a Mac
    Mean while her breath still smells like similac
    Slowly her life falls off track,
    When she meets her match and gets knocked back

    p.i.m.p she calls her self
    With no money, friends  and poor health
     But I don’ t see a p.i.m.p
    All I see is a…
    w.i.m.p

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    The true philosopher and the true poet are one, and a beauty, which is truth, and a truth, which is beauty, is the aim of both.

    Ralph Waldo Emerson, American Poet (1803-1882)

    na2011’s Poems (16)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Me 5
    What do you mean? 1
    Speak 1
    Pimp 0
    My back 2
    Don’t 0
    Grandma 0
    Maybe 0
    Get by 0
    Live 0
    Cry 2
    starved 0
    Aids angel 0
    Sticks and stones 0
    Think 0
    Shadow of me 0