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ashtray
Ashtray
By Jfarrell
As I put out my cigarette,
And glimpse the ashtray,
I can’t help but think
What a metaphor for my life
This is.
The dog-ends of past decisions,
Regrets,
Broken promises;
Drowning in the powdered ash
Long since burned.
The bottom of the ashtray,
Is stained ashen black;
Like Dorian Gray’s picture,
Inside me, is there a place,
That holds the scars of my mistakes,
Like dirty, filthy stains?
I can wash my ashtray;
Can I wash
What’s inside me?
I got cleaner,
I got scrubbing brush,
And
I gonna give it a bloody good try.
