The Day I Died
It’s almost that time of my year, how so?
It’s the time when I became what I feared; a “hoeâ€Â.
This uncanny event isn’t anything big.
It just so happened to be the first day I lit my own cig.
What a coincidence, it was also the first time I drank.
I learned that some men love to treat women like “skanksâ€Â.
I heard that the lake was icy and fresh.
It’s not like I would’ve known, I was inhaling his breath.
That alcohol just hits you like a punch to the chest.
It persuades you do things that you soon want to forget.
Like when I first took a hit of the marijuana smoke;
I felt the burn in my throat and I wanted to be cool, so I pretended like I wasn’t about to choke.
The lies were a result of a juvenile delinquent.
I would be surprised if he gives a **** about how my following year was spent.
I’d like to knock some sense into that boy but he just keeps turning his head.
He’ll learn sooner or later while lying in his prison cell’s bed.
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