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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Personal · #390308
rhyme without reason
A TISket, A TASket,
I keep secrets in my basket.
Wrote a letter, layed it out,
But oops, the pills, I dropped them.

                   Like pick up sticks...

1,2, If they only knew.
         They'd hurt you too.
         Throw back a few.

3,4, I begged him, "no more."
         You poor little whore.
         Booze numbs the sore.

5,6, Skin and trust torn to bits.
         But he got his kicks.
         Consume 'til your sick

7,8, I fake forgetting it great.
         Myself I now hate.
         My head, how it aches.

                             Watch the world spin...

All around the mulberry bush,
Life ruined by a weasel.

                             The devil...

Eenie, meenie, minnie, mo,
Catch my demons by the toe.
Put me in a padded cell
And try to help
My soul get well.

                             By feeding it?

Jack Sprat, binge to get fat,
Starve until I'm thinner.

                             Or get caught...

Then A TISket, A TASket,
I'll lie until my casket.
Emily-Be-Nimble, Emily-Smile-Quick,
NO ONE can know that I am sick.

For hush little baby,
Don't say a word.
I am the therapist,
Haven't you heard?


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