Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2277864-Been
Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #2277864
a short poem about living a jaded life

Been done gone and did that before.
Picked up a bet and settled a score.
Walked in rich and never been poor.
I’m not afraid of a little.
But, I don’t want any more.

Held in a cage with an open floor.
Walked through windows and crashed the door.
Danced in a circle and scabbed a sore.
I’m not afraid of a riddle.
I just can’t think anymore.

Been broken to pieces labeled a bore.
Looked for answers with truth at their core.
Tried to feel better and not what I wore.
I’m not afraid of the middle.
But, this isn’t truth, just lore.

Been in detox and warmed the floor.
People swearing at me and demanding more.
Friends grasping at straws of three or four.
I’m not afraid of rehab piddle.
It’s the gore. It’s the gore.

Been smelling lies with rot to the core.
Told two or three times, sometimes four.
Wrapped in anguish, sweetened to score.
I’m not afeared of the lying dribble.
It seeps from my pores, little more.
© Copyright 2022 dogwood212 (dogwood212 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2277864-Been