We Die Soon
Bumps of ketamine.
Go to bed real late.
It’s not what it seems,
Hell is a soulmate.
Vodka made of tears,
Down a bunch of shots.
Your mortician cheers,
Try not to get caught.
Steal cash from her purse,
Momma will not know.
Hail the nearest hearse,
There’s no tomorrow.
How much for a G?
Is my soul enough?
Not a lot to me,
‘Cuz I’m always tough.
Never look both ways,
When crossing Jordan.
A prisoner always,
But you are your warden.
Locking lips with death.
No one is immune.
Take a deep breath,
And know we die soon.
This poem is about:
Me
My family