MEMORIES
Sometimes we have to drive ourselves, to do the things we should,
when most of the time, we wish we only could.
Against all odds, self driven is meant to be,
the odd man’s out, leaving you and me.
We awake each morning, another day to live,
we push we pull, we take and we give.
Ain’t it kinda funny, how we’re all alike, yet we’re not the same,
living daily in a world, where some will lay their blame.
When they turn out their light, it’s in their look you see,
entering the place, a soul, should never be.
Being driven, by darkness, then we all get the blame,
anger, hate, revenge, for it is all the same.
Our words and deeds, we are measured by you see,
written down in the hearts, the things of you and me.
Good days and bad times, memories that we make,
as we drive down the road, that we decide to take.
Bad day’s and good time’s, in the memories that we keep,
as we become those memories, when they lay us down to sleep.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
