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so many poems I've written, never meaning for them to be read
so many poems I've written,
never meaning for them to be read
just words like the dust in the wind
memories that fade at the coming of dawn
it's three or four shots of whiskey an a half a pack
of cigarettes and I'm ready for a new day
filled with apathy
a sense of I just don't belong
a wound that wont heal
a shedded soul
the whiskey bottle comforts me
tells me not to cry
they say good things come to those who wait
haven't seen a good thing sense she left
there's a devil in the bottle that promises absolution
that never comes
reminiscing the good and the bad times we've both
been through as I stagger through the streets looking
for a fight
might sound crazy but the scars don't bother me
an I like the pain
it reminds me I'm still alive
wonder what would of have happened if I was the one
who left leaving her with a broken heart
would things be the same
you asked Me about My conscience
and I offered you poetical retribution for
whatever My sins
can you see Me
lonely
getting old
so many poems I've written,
never meaning for them to be read
what words shall I use to try to fill the empty spaces
night after night, I pretend it's all right
but I'm losing control
the dark Lord rides in force tonight
are the hell hounds after Me this night
time will only tell
I'm waiting for the angels to sing in the morning light
crying won't help you an prayin' won't do you any good
promised you'd love so completely
said you would always be there
yet here I an alone
the whiskey bottle comforts me
tells me not to cry
just a fool waiting on the love I found
to return
hey stranger things have happened
~ D Donner ~
Pulled from the archives
normally called a shoe box
