Turbulent youth, is what i had.
Always fighting, some would say bad.
Searching, looking, but never could find.
Always lurked in the back of my mind.
Many an anguished cry, "Fix me!"
God just smiled, and let me be.
Gun and knife became my trade.
Death lurked near, mistakes were made.
I rode my bike right on the edge.
Selfish and thoughtless, couldn't care less.
Fifty years old, body broken and sore.
sometimes, still think I should even the score.
"Fix me" in terror I've cried.
Always, I thought God had lied.
Fifty years have taken their toll.
Now feeling worn out and old.
Fifty years of fussing and fighting.
To discover something so exciting.
God, could never fix me.
Because he made me perfect you see.
Self Inflicted i would say.
I'm a beautiful perfect me.
Grant, i really like this. We all have our turmoils but we are each perfect.
Sounds like you've experienced a world full of pain Grant, reflected well within your poem.
This is a good write and I enjoyed reading it.
You have a very straightforward way of putting words straight out there, very honest, brutal at times, but so very real and enjoyable.
You work well with words Grant. Keep writing!
P.S. I'm a rhymer too, so not yet a dying breed!
thank you so much for your comments, its always nice to share my meager attempts with others.
my writing came from a need to express my emotions as I dont express myself well vocally.
some are just life experiences.
Hey Ingrid. Long time lass.
50 years is not old, life is just beginning!!!
Wear your 'life's story' on your face with pride, ok? It makes people interesting.
As Michael says, Grant, this is a lovely, honest write. As a person who usually writes in rhyme, I love this. I suppose, even though I'm 34, I can relate to the content to some degree too. Life does take its toll when you burn the candle at both ends. Good work.