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Jessie Jett

I hate it

I hate it when you stare at me,
or when you call me names.
I hate it ever more when you make me play those games.
I hate it when you whisper and you turn around and laugh.
I hate it when you point at me,
or the way you make those faces.
I hate the way you dress,
or how you tie your laces.
I hate it when you jump at me,
or when you try to pick fights.
I also hate the way you tell me how to spend my nights.
I hate the way you do your hair,
or how you pretend to care,
Because you suck at it.
I hate your personality.
I hate how you think you spend more money then me.
I hate it when you say I'm poor.
The fact, however, if you changed all this
I'd hate you even more.

[...] Read more

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My Beloved Guitar

The long solid neck,
With flowing, refinded strings.
A base of cherry; finished wood.
Defined in figure, exquisite;
Among other things.
Shaped with a curve,
Set down in my lap.
I picked up my guitar,
And made my fingers tap.
A symphony from,
Those melodic strings.
Part of my hearts amour.
My fingers graze along,
This coppery and bronze decor.
A roughness they slide.
Along the ends;
Roughness on my fingertips.
A sliding; an arry of refreshing sounds.
One that echos into the bottem,
And emerges to astound.

[...] Read more

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