Sometimes, people cut & run,
That's how, they say, goodbye,
Sometimes they use you,
Just for fun,
Then leave you, asking "why?".
It never was a talking point,
The way, you made them feel,
Emotion, and its tired disjoint,
The only thing that's real.
Commercial thoughts,
Of gain & loss,
The stifled names,
And who's the boss,
We leave the fame,
The work is tossed,
We never are the same,
And we'd do it, all again,
But, for now,
Just feel the loss,
And how, they were, once here.
Monday, 20 February 2017
Sometimes people... #poem
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1 comment:
Every dog will have his day and I’m no different.Every worm will turn and I’m the same.
Give me one break you bastards And I’ll show you I can play the game.I’m not just a lot of wind and piss and if you think I am then think on this.I’m mortal just like you but if all you hear is just a load of verbal diarrhoea, remember, it’s my arse and what I pass
is my business.If it doesn’t smell then what the hell, I haven’t left a mess.
So if my words offend, too bad, but not as bad as constipation of the mind.A chance is all I ask, just one will be enough, to run with ball in hand and do my stuff and prove my literary worth to one and all.Every dog will have his day and I’m no different. Every worm will turn and I’m the same.
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