The Worst of my Poetry
Author: Jordan Yates

Chapter 9
Baseball Bat

I hate you more if you'd let me die
One swift movement could close my eyes
It'd all be to my surprise
If you had just let me die

Left me out, on the street
And I had thought, you were just so sweet
There'd be blood, trailing from my feet
You'd be in Hell, sitting in the heat

Hit me with a baseball bat
I'd look like a dead rat
Road kill, I'd be just that
Like a pancake, I'd be just flat

You'd hide me in a box
Or hide me under some rocks
Leave me out, for a fox
Thrown what's left, throughout city blocks

Shot dead, that's me
It all becomes a reality
From this maimed body, I'm free
And from there, thrown out to sea

But no dwelling on that which is not
I am not dead, I will not rot
I know that you love me a lot
Watch what you plan, you may get caught
 

 

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