In my time
I've related sorrowful things
To one another
In place of
Purpose and passion
And what did that ultimately do for
Anyone
Or anything I cared for, really
So now I sigh
And lie in a huddled cocoon
In a state of mourning
And the daylight can't come too soon
Started out for kicks
And a new way to learn about life
But honestly speaking
It's just the same old tricks
Whistling in my direction
Accepting all these malapropisms of mine
Now I've broken all my teachers
And eventually
I'll break to the front of the line
And some lunatic once told me, that I was just the shiny, red ass of a crying baboon
Quite a stretch for that one
And the daylight can't come too soon
|
Email this Poetry
|
Add to reading list





