Array ( [sid] => 185571 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => All the Broken Toys [time] => 2018-11-03 11:34:35 [hometext] => The wounded know the broken… [bodytext] => /
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all the good things fall apart;
you made unhappiness an art
strived to hurt where you could,
and you did, babe, you did.

you built your life around pain;
beauty, daggers to your heart
a deep, deep well in your soul,
you made Schadenfreude your goal.

now I think I understand,
the need for you to undermine;
the need to deny the joys
that dissipate with broken toys.

childhood traumas, class and home,
stole the music, and the smiles;
took the light from your eyes
and left you all alone.

the testing times of bullied strife,
dreading when the class bells rang;
the fear and humiliations, they
never seemed to end.

the triumphant stares
of the alpha girls,
the snide remarks of bully boys;
kicking up the sullen dust
around the sad and broken toys.


[comments] => 3 [counter] => 129 [topic] => 8 [informant] => spike [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => AmericanTragedy ) Your Poetry Dot Com - All the Broken Toys


All the Broken Toys
Date: Saturday, 3rd November 2018 @ 11:34:35 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: spike
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all the good things fall apart;
you made unhappiness an art
strived to hurt where you could,
and you did, babe, you did.

you built your life around pain;
beauty, daggers to your heart
a deep, deep well in your soul,
you made Schadenfreude your goal.

now I think I understand,
the need for you to undermine;
the need to deny the joys
that dissipate with broken toys.

childhood traumas, class and home,
stole the music, and the smiles;
took the light from your eyes
and left you all alone.

the testing times of bullied strife,
dreading when the class bells rang;
the fear and humiliations, they
never seemed to end.

the triumphant stares
of the alpha girls,
the snide remarks of bully boys;
kicking up the sullen dust
around the sad and broken toys.




This poem is Copyright © spike


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