My Dying Days

i wish they were here
i don't mean to speak blasphemy
but the truth is
i got nothing to live for
except my talent
my money is gone
plus my friends are too busy to listen
to a man who used to run beer through their throats
and then they would sing, together
Copyright © | Year Posted 2005

Poem

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

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace