Poetrystrings

Punching Cane

Punching cane,

Candy isn\'t okay,

and his strength doesn\'t fade.

Tan muscle, mixed facials,

his purpose is domestic and unfaithful.

I, opportunity.

He\'s hitting the windows but feels dizzy, so I push into the city.

Glass brokers all the time, cane and I.

We must clean the cost, move on then get lost.

Punching mug,

Coffee isn\'t okay,

and his Biceps don\'t look fake.

I, the victim.

He has been a turner, trimming my Timmy and telling lies.

And I wouldn\'t go back; the background was jet,

Hex him, raven spells, and leave the two-person pack.

I, red vest dating, without my wolf having my Jack\'s black bookbag.

I looked, but I\'m more gagged, I sweetheart the sunbeams.

Welcome, I\'m no longer under the sea.