Elvis

It’s better to have an old beat up guitar on days like this,

Than a stale homeless sign reading God bless.

With un-brushed teeth, knotted hair, crispy clothes,

I don’t care if you look at me funny,

I’m not asking for a smile, just for a brief moment so we can listen to the sky hum a whistle I can play to.

These fingers may be brittle and broken, the silver strings out of tune,

But if you ask me I sound like Elvis, I know what I’m doing.

I can hear the music those other old b******s can’t because all they do is quietly wait for someone to drop them their meal tickets, wasting their lives away.

I don’t need any money to be happy, or a job I hate waking up to,

But the sound of the trees gorgeous instrument, that I can play my guitar to.

Reviews

[Adam :P]

i like this, clever

[r]

FIRSTLY: YESSSSS YOU'RE WRITING AGAIN!!!! :DDD ...well you could have been writing for awhile now and i wouldnt have noticed 'cause I havent been checking ur page [oops] but either way YAYY. and you NEED TO WRITE UR BOOK. the one with Rayne and Constance. Destroyed By Hate. - just saying!. Now for the ACTUAL review! :D

That is so poetic [obviously, it IS a poem after all] and I LOVE it. It's neat, and I love the lines "I can hear the music those other old b******s can’t because all they do is quietly wait for someone to drop them their meal tickets, wasting their lives away." I love that; and I love how you're playing the music just because it's MUSIC and not for money. It's amazing, and I LOVE it. (: Glad to see you're writing [as I spazzed about before]. Keep it up!