Jim, Jimmy, Jim, Jim
No one understood you,
Jim, Jimmy, Jim, Jim
In Paris you hid, hid, hid
On your last day heroin you sniffed, sniffed, sniffed
Pamela found your body stiff, stiff, stiff
Even dead The Doors are still a hit, hit, hit.
👁 5💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.