Mutter the shout of triumph
Smile, and make everyone happy
Jump, like an aimless soul
Cheap god, crumpled me
If I have a heart, i'll give it to you
In my world you don't even try to exist
and thanks for making a deplorable me
Dear..whatever,
did you hear the sighs
echoing throughout my history?
did you listen to the tearing pages
of my hidden story?
Do you see
the invisible in me?
The show's over, everybody's gone
Maybe I should start sweeping, floor by floor
Ground floor first, plain facade
1st floor, beautiful design
2nd floor, fascinating ornaments
3rd floor, cobwebs everywhere
4th floor, scattered scribbled notes
5th floor, bloody graffitis
6th floor, vivid, dark creatures
It goes higher, it sinks deeper
Like a bruised orphan
cry myself back to the backstage
Lock the door
forever
I shall see no one again
I shall die a complete slut
I will smash all the light bulbs
and expression will be just worthless pain
Who's there to listen anyway?
5 comments:
awesome, i like it alot. love deplorable me. its perfect.i wish i said it.
by Stricken
dear victor,
i think i learned something from reading your poem......
absolutely a beautiful piece of work. i only wish i could write that well. it made me feel lonely. vivid is a good word to use in this situation. if only everyone on here wrote as well as you....
thanks for the inspiration. if i were you, i'd get a copyright right away.
displeasedidealist
by Dispid
*Psalm 5:1, 13.
(little did she know that He's there with her, waiting at the backstage all the while..)
my MOST depressive poem.
as the floors get higher, the closer it gets to her true soul.
"backstage", suggests that she usually put up a show on the real world's stage.
Post a Comment