Continued....
POEM -Part 7
Nasser - The memory of a beaten wife.
He lived by the motto,
'Be big at all costs',
So he began using drugs,
In which he got lost.
He built a physique,
That made every schmoe gush,
But it was his abuse of these woman,
That created the hush.
With an evil nasty temper,
And a quick heavy fist,
This synthol using retard,
Always seemed quite pissed.
For these women they enraged him,
Especially his spouse,
He got angry when she stood-up,
And said 'I'm moving house'.
He raised his hand against her,
And punched her in the jaw,
Kicked her in the stomach,
Bashed like a cheap crack-whore.
His days are filled emptiness,
Can be found on the internet,
Trying to own the Pumpkin-Heads,
Adolescents he has never met.
Oh Nasser deal with your anger,
Address your inner rage,
The drug abuse and violence,
The failed Olympia stage.
Nasser now lives all alone,
No children to share his life,
A smelly house all full of dogs,
And the memory of a beaten wife.
To be continued...
