Sad Cafe

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Blind.

Submitted: December 07, 2011

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Submitted: December 07, 2011

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these kids can't even see themselves;

bunch of dead beatniks,

a tired generation,

they missed their decade by half a century.

and they're all trying to mean something,

as they sit there smoking themselves dry,

but they realize

that no one really cares anymore- 

still, they try.

their words are brittle-

touch them and they fall apart-

or hopelessly self-absorbed-

they can't escape themselves-

but those kids keep on writing,

trying to find something in those lines,

trying to trace the faces they can't see,

never satisfied.

they talk about blood

but dream of tin-pan-alley love,

and these kids can't see the irony

so they hate the world

because it laughs at the oxymoron in their souls.

 


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