In Man You Trust
You went to the doctor’s office
for your regular checkup
The results came back
about that persistent hiccup ...
which nearly scared you to death
There wasn’t no good report,
only very bad news
No rose-colored health bouquet,
just the lingering sick blues
The doctor said you got six months to live,
and before you checkout,
which organs would you care to give
That’s the reward sent to you,
for putting your trust in man
Now you’re standing at the edge of the grave,
with the shovel in your hand
You just joined the walking dead,
those who believed everything a man said
When will the bulb come on in your empty head,
that God’s the only one who knows
what time you will have go to your earthen bed
Here’s one preacher’s advice to you:
Don’t get the itch you can’t scratch,
don’t get the sore that can’t be patched
Don’t get the suffocating wheeze,
don’t get the dreaded fretting disease
If you do get a terrible ailment,
and in man you put all of your trust
You surely are gonna lament,
as they prematurely nail your coffin shut
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment