It Never Rains In February - Poem by Joe Nemeth
Gotta curse my loyalty, every day, ‘cause it’s the only thing that makes me stay,
Gives you the right to say whatever you wanna say, from your shadow I can’t stray,
A wounding hold, like flame to a moth, branches caught in the rapids froth,
Like a slave, tattered cloth, fed on sparse helpings of your love ‘n’ cares sweet broth.
Old friendships noose, it’s got a worn out know, maybe you’ll miss your next shot,
Chained me down, runaway Train of Thought, tied down to these rails of rot,
Reload that twisted verbal shotgun, burn the coal or the train won’t run,
One day I’ll take my chance and run, you’ve had quite enough of your sick fun.
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