PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

She has been longing to be loved for the longest,
Just expecting a man to provide her with the strongest
Passion that any man could shower a lady with,
But before you were long gone you made me a myth.

So, Mister Trapstar,
Now, I'm back again…

She explained to me how much she needed to touch
By taking my hand to place in mystical areas or such;
Missing the comfort of some very masculine digits,
We made love all nights, when yours became frigid.

So, Mister Trapstar,
You need to ask a friend…

I've been in your house in your bed with your wife,
I've been in her mouth in her bread without a knife;
She willingly gave the welcome under your sheets,
Every rainy night you decided to run those streets.
Mister Trapstar…

I put her on her knees on her toes with your shirt,
I had gotten to your keys to your clothes without work;
She just gave your everything up like it was for sale,
Every time you were going in and out of county jail.
Mister Trapstar…

Your wife is no longer in love with you, man,
She made vow to never try to make you understand,
Because you are still in love with the trap and paper,
You are now the one being used by a paper chaser.

Mister Trapstar,
You thought I was playing…

If only you paid attention to what mattered the most,
You would discern predicaments as they accost;
She was saying sweet nothings like she needs a divorce,
Which left me no other options to feeling no remorse.

Mister Trapstar,
You start back praying…

I've been in your house in your bed with your wife,
I've been in her mouth in her bread without a knife;
She willingly gave the welcome under your sheets,
Every rainy night you decided to run those streets.
Mister Trapstar…

I put her on her knees on her toes with your shirt,
I had gotten to your keys to your clothes without work;
She just gave your everything up like it was for sale,
Every time you were going in and out of county jail.
Mister Trapstar…