That Poem You Wrote

Lemme tell you bout your poem I didn’t read
Too long for a street troubadour like me
It keep goin and goin and goin and goin
Like your mom when she got her panty line showing
She take me by the hand
Before she take me by the dick
And the lessons I learned from your mother
Are the kind that stick
Meanwhile, I don’t remember a word you wrote
You as insignificant as a piece of lint on my scrote
I see a few poets trapped in that same boat
Allows me to educate your ass

First and foremost, you ain’t Robert Frost
Second of all, you needs you’s own voice
Lastly, and remember this at all cost,
Folks like you is the reason I became pro choice