Although this is poetry,

These poems are also a story,

In them is a forward progression,

And for some reason a filtration,

I always start stories the same,

Boring, unimpressive, I should try harder,

But you might not know,

That's actually how highly I value myself,

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

My work, I sort of don't want to give it away,

And just the thought of selling it for money,

Makes me squirm like a little girl,

But this work is sort of bigger than me,

It deserves to see the world,

So if you never got to see these words,

At the end of this book,

I’m sorry, did you miss out?

Who knows, maybe you could do better,

But if you made it this far,

Congratulations,

Maybe you got the philosopher’s stone,

Maybe you got your dick wet,

Does it make your pussy wetter?

If this finish line had a party,

I would make love to everyone there,

The real ones, the sinners, the dirty,

The mountain climbers, the truth seekers,

The dreamers,

If you’re not a baller already, you’ll be a dragon tomorrow,

These words, I hope they’ve blessed you,

Gave you what you needed,

Anyways, this is the end, see you in the next book.