brokenangel
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Jan 21, 2005
- Location
- Ghetto Paradise, yo.
if you start reading it...just keep reading. it's a story fit into a poem-ish thing. it's all about the rhyming lemme know what you think
There’s this girl named Jane
Who had a pretty face
She was lost inside
Didn’t know her place
Nobody knew her
She was ‘just’ a punk
Nobody cared that
She was a major drunk
Filled her mind with alcohol
‘Till she couldn’t feel
She thought it was the only way
Her wounds would heal
If you tried talking to her
She would just ignore
Not caring that, behind her back,
She was labeled a ‘whore’
One day Punk Jane
Came drunk to school
Teased as usual
But this time she couldn’t keep her cool
Not being in control
She started a fight
She didn’t care who
She took the first person in sight
A little boy was spotted
And slammed to the ground
Punk Jane started to pound on him
Without making a single sound
He screamed and pleaded
For her to stop
But it fell on deaf ears
For her sanity level had dropped
His cries died down
As a teacher pulled them apart
Punk Jane smiled slightly,
Admiring her art
That boy got rushed to the hospital
In a bloody pool
Little Johnny would still be alive
If Punk Jane didn’t come drunk to school
There’s this girl named Jane
Who had a pretty face
She was lost inside
Didn’t know her place
Nobody knew her
She was ‘just’ a punk
Nobody cared that
She was a major drunk
Filled her mind with alcohol
‘Till she couldn’t feel
She thought it was the only way
Her wounds would heal
If you tried talking to her
She would just ignore
Not caring that, behind her back,
She was labeled a ‘whore’
One day Punk Jane
Came drunk to school
Teased as usual
But this time she couldn’t keep her cool
Not being in control
She started a fight
She didn’t care who
She took the first person in sight
A little boy was spotted
And slammed to the ground
Punk Jane started to pound on him
Without making a single sound
He screamed and pleaded
For her to stop
But it fell on deaf ears
For her sanity level had dropped
His cries died down
As a teacher pulled them apart
Punk Jane smiled slightly,
Admiring her art
That boy got rushed to the hospital
In a bloody pool
Little Johnny would still be alive
If Punk Jane didn’t come drunk to school