Hurdle

December 8, 2017

Acting as stupid as a dull door nail

When you could be getting everything right/

Thinking you are so amazingly cool/

Refusing to even hold any pen/

Always very high and smoking a joint/

Does your dead and damaged brain even run?/

Like a scratched broken record do you run?/

Pants sagging and you are biting your nail,/

Feigning indifference to the burning joint/

That has caught on fire, yet you are right???/

In the dark, you prick yourself with a pin/

Yet during day, you are so freakin cool/

Giving me the shoulder that is so cool/

To the touch, go ahead and start to run/

Away from the problems, put down that pen/

That writes down your fears; cause then it’s death….nail/

And coffin. DON’T! I promise you, I’m right/

But please prove me wrong and throw out that joint./

All of your mistakes are due to that joint/

Staying on the outside, where it is so cool/

You still refuse to help yourself and write /

Down your problems, you think it’s best to run/

You are so slow, like extricating a nail/

You have been captured in this wretched pen./

For you’re and my sake, I have penned/

This poem; your unstable parents have joint/

Custody. You feel you’re being nailed/

To a cross, not with jesus; but in the ‘cool’/

Depths of hell, yet you still refuse to run/

Because you cannot d o anything right./

Please tell me I am finally right./

With that, I take my leave and lay this pen/

Down, it is time to quit this final run/

We are the same; we both hold this damned joint./

We do not have to try to be cool,/

In our hurting hearts is the rusty nail./

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