Kenners's blog: "Rants and Poems"

I won't be beaten by this horrid place.

No matter what streaks my dirty face.

I won't be bent and I can't be broke.

At least not mentally because I'll just smoke.

This pain and panic rules me by the day.

I can't seem to find another real way.

It doesn't matter though in the end.

Because I'm made of nails my friend.

I piss rocks and razor blades.

I've lived through robbery and some raids.

I've kicked off once or twice before.

I end up back on this shitty shore.

Though in the end nothing else pales.

Because my friend I'm made of nails.