Replace.
One, Two, Three, Four ,,,,
thatʼs how many came before you,
youʼd think earlier i wouldʼve made a breakthrough
but instead iʼve decided to push through,
one by one, just to fill my hole
too bad these girls had no heart nor soul
all i cried for was my damage control
One, Two, Three, Four ....
thatʼs how many come after you,
i shouldnʼt let myself fall through
but itʼs become something iʼm used to,
forgive me for my pain
as i have nothing left to gain
close my mouth as i begin to complain
This poem is about:
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: