Snaaaaacks Bruh

Right now I feel like life is in a pickle.

I just ate my last pop sickle.

That is right, I don't have a single Otter Pop left to my name.

Nobody will understand my pain.

I cannot settle my craving with an ice cube.

It is just too damn plain.

And right now my mouth feels like a desert plain.

The Sahara desert to be exact.

It is from this bong rip that left my entire throat completely facked!

That, my friend, is a fact.

Pause the poetry to head to the store for more Otter Pops

and to just get off my ass?

Neh, I'll pass...

More like two hits and pass.

It is amazing how time flies so fast.

 

I feel so alive but far too gone to drive.

Maybe I'll just drink some water and get more delicious pops from the 

Otters at five.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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