A statistic, a number, another news headline,
A mother, a father, walking the breadline.
A baby, a toddler, and soon enough youth,
Misguided, turned violent, sheltered from the truth.
Your first car, first job, your first home,
The first bailiff knock from your first personal loan.
The bottles, the baggies, the smoke and the laughter,
The good times gone sour, the trip into disaster.
The last few sober memories, the good times you sought,
The bad times you had, and the good times you bought.
For life without purpose, without truth, without reason,
Is as much use as the years without seasons.
Submitted: May 25, 2014
© Copyright 2023 Tom Hutz. All rights reserved.
Comments
This was so neat. I love poems like this where it's kind of quick paced and gets you thinking quick. This was clever :) nice job
Mon, May 26th, 2014 3:48am
Author
Reply
Thanks, it was quick and rushed but sometimes they're the best ones.
Mon, May 26th, 2014 12:25amFacebook Comments
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CheshireKitten12
This is a really interesting poem, I enjoyed reading it, thank you for sharing. :) please keep writing. I look forwards to reading more of your work. :) gave it a like and you have a new fan. :)
Sun, May 25th, 2014 7:56pmAuthor
Reply
Thanks very much Cheshire. Hopefully there will be some more coming soon.
Sun, May 25th, 2014 12:59pm