I’m not much for poetry. Don’t think I ever wrote one that wasn’t part of a high school english project, and I don’t know much about it. But, last night, for whatever reason, I just started putting down some rhymes. I thought I’d share it.
Don’t worry, I’m not going to quit my day job (I don’t have one to quit!).
That Bad Outing Feeling
Once again, that drifting feeling. Busted pride, dials spinning
You take your time but that’s not winning.
Gritty, callused, blackened palms. Daytime whiskey
Nighttime psalms. Leather fingers grip mercy’s alms.
You speak in riddles, they hear in rhymes, saying nothing
so many times. My friends listen and say I’m fine.
Pardon me I’m not myself, but not projecting someone else.
I’ll just sit on my wooden shelf ‘till something passes that might help.
The desperation motivates, makes me hate those past mistakes.
They whip at what’s left of me, make me what I don’t want to be.
Outside, beyond this atmosphere, dreams break free and disappear
There’s a path but it’s not clear, I’m told to follow without fear.
What is there that can be done, but climb the ladder rung by rung.
Set swollen feet, lace up your shoes, put ice across your bruise, become a user or be used.
The lessons burn and scar your skin, now pick yourself up and begin again.
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