Poe Folk 

The blues…. Down and out… Poor and more… Some how life keeps showing me the door. So I leave out but I can’t get away from shame. Fingers get pointed and my index is double jointed and somehow my pointer and trigger puller get pointed back at the so called anointed and mirrors dance all around me laughing and ridiculing my discomfort. Disgruntled facial expressions close captioning my thoughts in discretion. Nothing but lent and space in my pockets apartment space. Angry, downing whiskey with no chase. Holes in my jeans, stains on my sleeves, aim and release, begging for change, please! While my hands out, proud not, jail rot, pail tops while the dogs just chase their tails in the same spot. Dead locked on New graveyard space because that’s where I’m headed soon. The very moment I breach my mother’s womb I was doomed and nothing but facts. So stop telling me these double barrel lies so you can feel better. Please open your eyes because what you’re doing to me is not a surprise AMERICA….. The white and the blue come first. The red is lost with all fifty stars. POE FOLK!

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