Description: This is a pretty bad poem that I wrote trying to be deep and whatnot. The last line of it is okay, but the rest is pretty bad, just trying to get things to rhyme. What scares me is that I wrote this one kind of recently.
Rating: Not so great.
What happened I donâ€™t recall
My blood has spilled, my mind racked
But now I hear the call
What a pity, what a curse
Repeat inside my head
Sadly compromising, â€œIt couldâ€™ve been worseï¿½?
But matters not to the dead
Suddenly Iâ€™m back, I see my hands
Mangled, torn, confused
My neck is slashed, my head limply hangs
My chest is badly bruised
But Iâ€™m not in my body, Iâ€™m out and above
And I slowly realize my crime
A friend, a bottle, a girl I could love
Their eyes no longer shine
I wrestle their bodies, I desperately cling
Hoping this isnâ€™t true
But their bodies torn and trembling
Their lives no longer continue
The tenants come to take them away
I cry, I scream and wail
But beside me, my body no longer lays
Apparently my life had failed
Iâ€™m left alone, in my sorrow and pain
As I watch my body decease
I made a false choice, I went with the grain
And now my self-loathing increases
Why was I such a fool?
When I went against what I preached
And now in the car that made me so cruel
I hate like a blood-sucking leech
I wanted a child, I wanted a wife
I wanted the best I could get
There was so much I wanted to do with my life
And now thereâ€™s nothing left.
Â© 2002 Morgan Foster