Undecided
Kissing is a habit,
Hugging is a shame,
Boys get all the pleasure,
Girls get all the bpame,
They tell you that they love you,
They tell you that its true.
Yet when your stomach starts to rise,
They say the hell with you,
60 minutes of pleasure,
9 months of pain,
With a baby that got no name,
The momma called a hore,
The baby called a bastard,
The baby wouldn't be here,
If the rubber hadn't tore.
👁 1💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.