A poem

Allow me to preface this poem with the following statement: it was written for (and won) a bad poetry contest. I think it’s pretty obvious why.

Segue to Crack Street

Dude.
Like
I told you a million times
“Crack Kills”.

You were like “Whatever” and
“I’ll smoke it 24/7 if I want to.”

Dude.
Like
I told you not to steal my grandma’s wedding ring
from off her finger at her funeral.
But you did.
For crack.

Ka-ching!
For bling-bling

Now look at you.
On Crack Street.
In the alley with your white chapped lips.
You suck.

Anachronism.