Of Hood and Man

I wrote this poem about my new butterfly knife, if no one knows what that is, it is a blade with two handles it folds into, it is made for doing tricks, and is quite a sight :)

Dancing in the street-light, of the subtle dark night, my breath silently fogged, as she wizzed around on my finger, performing tricks it would take a begginer atleast six weeks to learn. With incredible agility, making the scene look almost fake, the silver glint of razor sharp stainless steel glinted, reflecting the bright street-light right into the stars. Did the black leather Harley boots mean nothing? Did the black, greasy mullet not tell you I am wild? If not, the beatiful blade laying in perfect possesion of my hand did tell you, I am hood. With a gang of five roudy a******s just praying to break someones nose before the night is over, I know we are...Of hood, and man.

Reviews

[HeIsWe]

I really like this, you did good. :)