PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Why must these memories take the smile it once made,

take me out back and back stab me in the shade,

surrounded by parades of girls once laid,

and the ones who weren't much felt the trade,

maybe need some aid, yet who can i ask?

the one girl i truly loved pushes me more to the flask,

nick the name Kath, leave tracks on my eyes,

why try to mask the pain behind a guy that cries?

i can't take much more, try to keep pushin,

but i can't find the right amount of comfy in a cushion,

charge me for lookin, free to touch,

rushing to my wallet cause just touching is too much,

it gets mighty lonely living as a writer,

who holds onto every memory, pain fighter,

stick a fork in her, i allowed her to over cook,

so her many fans can burn to ashes in her black book.