cliché
Date: Thursday, 2nd May 2013 @ 03:59:23 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry
Contributed By: Jyssvw22
Keep your head held high
Everything happens for a reason
We can't look backwards only forwards
Life goes on
Something better will come along ....
Nothing you say matters
Nothing you say sinks in
You sound like the rest of them
You sound like a talking head
When you should be truthful instead
And tell me what a piece of trash I have been
A more complete and utter disappointment you have never seen
Correct?
Collect on this neglect I am currently dishing
Wishing for a witness
A participant
In the proceeding
Misleading my opponents
Relieving condolences
Keep your sorrys to yourself
I don't want or need them
None of these words percolate
None of these sounds reverberate
All you have done
Is convince me to run
Away from the help I need
Towards the selfless greed
That takes my mind from worry to pain to joy and then back again
A sliver of hope
The rope that chokes
The neck is now broke
From the whipsaw motion
Back and forth
Side to side
Nausea sets in
Stomach growls
Head spins
Drunk on promises
Never fulfilled
Half rebuilt
My core is shook
My insides have been turned
Into intestinal soup
Time to recoup
My possessions
My pride
My face
I hide
From the world which stares
And dares to
Ask me why
How high
Will I fly
If I jump off the roof
Wave goodbye
How many years
How many tears
Constitute a cry
A sigh
Suggesting I give up
A lie
Ensuring I stop
Procuring a mop
To scrub the dirt
Erase the hurt
Replace the curt
With elongated explanations of why this is going to burn
Sting the skin
Pinch a nerve
Strike a pose
Punched in the nose
Bleeding on white carpets
Red spots stain
Elegant people refrain
From belching
From cussing
From anything inhumane
I relish the opportunity
To regain
Trust
Is a must
When planning for the eventual dust
To settle
A rebel
Contradicts the norm
Turns rocks into pebbles
Bass into treble
A terrible idea
Giving me a key
I come and go
Whenever I please
I use the bathroom when I need to peas
and carrots and vitamins to help me see
You are my target
I am the one incomplete
In retreat
From the powers that be
The higher we climb
The further we fall to the street
The cars whistle by
The bicyclist brushes his teeth
A nice grin on his face
As he peddles harder with his feet
Not a sin you can taste
No winners in this race
Just losers
Just me
Now free
This poem is Copyright © Jyssvw22
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