The bad things that I’ve seen, that are dirty and unclean
The bad things that I’ve done, I just can’t tell you or anyone
The bad things that I’ve said, after having sex in our bed
The bad things that I know, I can never put them on show
The rough places I’ve stayed, could make a grown man afraid
The rough girls that had me, were not sexy, slim, or funny
The rough people I’ve met, their faces I will not forget
The rough life I once led, is not all in my head
The Real pain that I’m in, I don’t know where to begin
The Real passion I feel inside, helps me dry the tears that I cried
The Real love that I hurt, could treat me like dogs dirt
The Real house where I live, can not forget or forgive
The fresh knives in my back, will not cut me some slack
The fresh voices that I hear, are filling me with fear
The new candle is not bright, diminishing by daylight
The new words that I now utter, leaving me lying in the gutter
Been there, done that. What else is new? And poetry does help to get it off your chest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem Mr David