When we were young and you threw me away when you were done.
You should count your blessings my last name was not Clarkson.

And when on an endless lonely sea you set my poor heart adrift.
You know you’re so damn lucky my last name isn’t Swift.

You’ve plunged the knife so deep, I think at times for kicks.
I guess you won the jackpot because it isn’t Nicks.

Although you’ve given heartache for at least one good song.
And after all the harm you’ve done, no one would think me wrong.

Yes, so maybe one day I’ll make a record at the Ryman.
But you need to have music with words, and I’m also not

Ms. Simon…

Poem – Copyright 2010 S J Hahn