My life is written by a bad poet
There’s no rhythm, failed attempts at beauty
Nothing to admire, plenty to abscond
Limp life hangs
And almost falls out of frame
But the feelings are there just the same
They just come out ugly
When you look at me
What can I say?
A bad poet wrote me.
About the Creator
Jack Friend
Pizzaiolo, social worker, brewer, writer
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If You Love Me, You'll Do It
I met Jason when I was five years old. I could say that I loved him from the moment I saw him. He was so handsome to me and I felt in awe by his presence. When they introduced him as the new kid in school, I wanted to be his friend right away. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember his smile and how he didn't seem shy. He appeared confident and ready to learn. I waved at him and said "hello," before anyone else could even say a word. He sat next to me, and I asked him if he wanted to be friends. He looked so happy as he said, "Yes!"
By Sidney Smith (Sid Smith)6 days ago in Fiction
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