Our Song Was BAD
He played a song, they played it loud
I heard it once, I felt so proud
We danced to it, in younger days
Before I saw his darker ways
It played today, that same old tune
I shut it off, too loud, too soon
The words he sang, they used to shine
Now every line feels like a freaky lie
He’s locked away, a loaded gun
He robbed, he hurt, then tried to run
They caught him fast, no glory there
Just a evil man and cold, blank stares
I dream of him like nothing’s wrong
Then I remember the bad man’s song
The nights he cursed, the things he stole
The way he tried to own my soul
And near the end, that line he sang
“Yes, I’m bad”—yeah, now I know
Not bold, not tough, just mean and low
That song’s a lie, it frightens me.
Now you reap just what you sowed.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (2)
Brilliant!!!
I loved the extended metaphor of the song representing the trauma that she now has over her lover who turned out to be abusive. It is woven in so well to like every other line. It becomes part of the narrative of her memory. I love this so much...💝