i found a box of old poems
the poetry i wrote ages ago
doesn’t belong to me anymore
the person that wrote those lines
of despair and shame and utter honesty
has long been gone
it’s almost as if he died from self-inflicted wounds
from too much booze and tabacco
and whoring around
from not giving a shit about work
or baseball
or forgetting to buy chocolate and roses
on valentine’s day
reading page after page of the drivel
i want to tear them to pieces
but something inside me
won’t let it happen
because deep down i’m in love with the words
that used to bring me joy knowing my misery
was no different than yours
february two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
Wow 🙂 misery is a great source for poetry
Thanks, Björn. Nothing like a little misery to brighten your day. 😀
I’ve got some of those too – I think a lot of people do!! 😀
yes indeed my friend
misery turn to be an inspiration… awesome piece…
Thanks so much, happy to know you enjoyed this one.
reading old poems embarrasses me.
so naive, so sappy.
i know what you mean..especially the ones you don’t remember ever writing!
Interesting
Thank you, Lola
So true. Our poetry evolves over time as we become more experienced in writing and life. I still like some of my older poems because of their rawness. A very honest piece. Enjoyed it 🙂
Thank you so much for commenting on this piece, Loredana – glad you enjoyed it!
yes, exactly like that
Thank you, Rose.
Aside from the misery, sometimes I find an old piece and wonder just who was that clever SOB who penned that one!
Haha I’m with you there!