Down again, in November showers
that wash the sin from my crown.
Out walking my black dog in the rain,
skirting hills and wither deep.
Just another day in here,
Under my skin
Under the hood
Where the engine strains and groans
as it drags my weary chassis
to the finish line.
Where I’m content to lose again,
to choose again.
And choose life this time.
Even with its witless overtures
and empty virtue,
it holds the one thing
that burns like fire
and wakes me from my bitter sleep.
Laidback DM: SteveStillStanding.com 
Love it. I’d like to see you cross the finish line and win, at life. Maybe you need a Mach 1 1970 with a v8? 😉
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Lol! But then I wouldn’t be the underdog 😉
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No you wouldn’t. You’d be where you should be, top dog!
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😃❤️
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I really love your poems. I understand that feeling of just trying to get there, having no idea how to get there, but just having to find the strength and conditioning to move on and leave the past where it belongs. Hope that makes sense 😉
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It sure does. Sometimes I wish others would leave the past where it belongs, but that’s not up to me, unfortunately. Thanks so much for reading 🙂
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You’re welcome! Thank you for reading mine as well:) I know that the past should stay where it belongs, but sometimes I give in and get caught up, but I’m learning more everyday how to make it back into the present, and looking forward to the future. 😊
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👍😃
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This poem was strangely satisfying to me. It was depressing, but it was like you understood your place in the world at that point in time.
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Got it in one! Glad you liked it, Michael 🙂
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Pure rock and roll of the heart…
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Thanks, Tatjana. What can I say, is the sad muso in me 🙂
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I wouldn’t say sad. I’d say toughened and liberated.
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Yep. That. lol 😉
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