**in a bit of a slump... poem stemmed from something I said earlier today; **
the guy who had me before
didn’t want me any more
he left me outside a church door
but they didn’t want an old whore
so, they tried to sell me at a store
but to shelve me would be too much of a chore
“why don’t you leave her by the shore?”
said the cashier, mean to the core.
each stop we made, my heart tore
rip. rip. rip. it was rather sore.
that’s when my gut slipped to the floor
I thought… “what am I living for?”
if others think that I’m a bore
and simply someone who they abhor
then I should lock myself in a drawer
in a dusty room that lacks décor.
down and blue I wandered for
a place to hide, an abandoned boudoir
I could be invisible for a year or four
I’d be nothing more than old folklore.
children will tell tales of a hideous boar
that lives in the forest beyond the moor
I’ll have bristles grow out of every pore
and for the hell of it, I’ll even roar.
Created: Dec 16, 2009Document Media