Bloated
Run, run, baby runaway, my charm don't fail;
Take to your heels,
I'm that tick-time bomb on self destruct;
Do not ask for promises, that I stop keeping and making.
The backpack on my shoulder has given me an akward gait,
And time keeps ticking on
Run away baby before you get struck;
Baby run before you get stuck;
Run, run, baby runaway.
poem by Prince Korede Abiodun
Added by Poetry Lover
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