Poetry at its worst

It all StaRted Wen I was a ChiLd
the monster SKREECED! in my room
and made me frown; i wAS sad
he took away my beautiful krown!

Then I becAme a teen
everyone called me, cancer head
and made me scream!
when all I assked for was and Ice cream!

i Like vaniiila and I like choclolate mixed together LôôKs
like swirls of diereses but tase so yummy for my big o'le tummy.

Then iturned 18 and discovere my muther
lived in a world of mythology and their she was
the queen and upon the thrown of commode
she set and SCREAMED!

I wunder? if she forgot? her hemoroid cream!

Then I meet Marijuana and nothing in the world
could touch me and it was PEASe in my heart,
that, I could now dream
as the mushrom juices f
                                    l
                                    o
                                    w
through my veins...
I no longer screamed.

Aw...
oh...
aw...

yes, i am a  live!
now much older and wize
and realise I am woman hear me RoaR!

score! not with me you wont.
cause i know my butts wide '
and your jokes will glide.

now I m an old lady...
sitting in a glider
watching the daisy's sway
and staring into the sky
as my hemorrhoids continue to ache.

I find my way to reminise
about  good old days!
Poor old mother should of used PFH.

Muther said, "Shirly temple was a hit"!
But... I wunder why?
she never had a pimple or zit?
either way she could dance and sing
the best back in the good old days.

like elvis presley aliens took her away
four them to entertain on ANOther PlanET way up Hi!

now I am 84 and i learned a new way
to forget about my aches and pains
razor blades slicing away the wrinkles
that look like fermented cheese!

sighs of relief as the blood
                r
                  u
                      s
                          h
                          e
                            s

                      d
                      o
                    w
                    n
                      my veins.
                              like melted cheese oozing from a sandwhich muther burnt!

Now I lay on my death bed and nothing much changed
I know in my last breathe my Husband will still be wanting
only one thing...
as I  lol, only in his dreams

Maybe the depends I left behind will suit him just fine.

Life isant so bad after all.
Death is surly to come
and there I am surly to wake!

returning as a cat
that can lick my own a$$
OH MY what a blast!
and my new owner reading
horrid poetry in bad taste!

Finally at last
flowers grow in the wild
and I continue to pass nasty gas,
hemorioids r gone
and marijuana fields r hidden

poor muther lives on scratching her bubbly old ass.

So u see? Life isant trully that bad,
its just all the drooling that made me sad,
one or two I dont know
but on the count of three Ill hit the floor and buckle my shoe.

I know this poem must come to a close
cause my heart aches and my time is up

POOP!
I forgot my depends
when I came back too life again.

but, I did remember my pen
so lets write some more shit again.

what the hell is this?
I have palls!
how will I hold the damn pen.

Scratching in the litter,
I ll write a poem all about how
I no longer need depends
cause I got this fancy box to shit in.