If You Don't Have Anything Nice To Say....

 

Dirty old town
Little in its size
Minds closed like traps
Death in their eyes
Waters do not move
Rivers flow out brown
Cracks in all the sidewalks
Rain always coming down
Streets run black and dirty
Nights are silent and dead
Drunks are always crawling
On their ways to beds
Eyes as wide as saucers
Hands are out in want
Pavements glow in gloom
Avenues they now haunt
Moving forward in madness
Racing against the dawn
Counting every single speck
Until it is all gone
Fallen to the wayside
Driven into the ditch
Hit the arches swiftly
And be gone just as quick
Onto the destination
Where want is met with need
The errand always in focus
The journey met with speed
The bars are sad repetitions
Of things that never change
The patrons look familiar
The people, they are strange
I know these things I speak of
These things shall I not return
And into my life remind me
Of the years that I have burned
For now the times are different
Though I may be the same
I am the one that those that knew me
The ones that call MY name
They are the ones that matter
These ones, I wish so well
But the ones that speak so harshly
Well, they can GO TO HELL!

Reviews

[papaed]

This is a little hard to follow. It's filled with passion. I began thinking you were speaking of a small town childhood escaped from with very bad feelings. Then I felt it change to a recognition that you are the product of your past and those that know you as you are are the ones that matter. But in the end it seemed that you were saying that anyone that feels as you did in the beginning can go to hell. Is this self condemnation? We all certainly do enough of that. Maybe I'm just tired tonight, but while this read well and stimulated my curiosity, it's message was not clear to me.
Thanks for sharing.
papaed