I heard some words spoken and they sent me straight to Trouble town.
The words they echoed in my mind and they crinkled my brow.
Oh Trouble town was a dark place with little to give.
It was heavy with the burden carried by those that there did live.
I paced the narrow streets with my heavy head hanging low,
content with the grief and the anguish that I showed.
I whimpered and wailed,
and I shuddered and scaled,
the wall of distress that I'd been recently impaled -
Trouble town held me in its grip.
The strangers that I passed nodded at me in salute.
My troubles were grand and they respected me anew.
I dragged my feet along that street and tripped on my pride.
There’s no truth in your stories,
there’s no truth in your lies.
I looked for your face but all I saw was empty dread.
So I felt around a rugged nest and found a book unread.
And it said –
Eyes were made for crying tears.
Mother’s were made for allaying fears.
And all I know is that I’m trapped in Trouble town.
I searched inside my memory,
to find the warmth hidden in your eyes.
But that image was made cold,
by the words preceding our goodbyes.
And I’m caught in the grip of Trouble town.
I should say that I don't usually write poetry and yet here it is, my foray into poetic endeavours. When I wrote this piece, and even now, when re-reading it, my mind's ear "hears" it played out as a country song sung by a male with a gruff voice. Just a little additional info to give you context as you read the words.