In pitch darkness
Destitute
A word prostitute
She breathes her words
Her Instrument
Her new testament
She screams vitality
But mentally
She's dying.
A subject to society
Brutal to herself but
To others
Servitude
Gratitude is what she receives
But she deceives
Others.
A mental fugitive
Running away from herself
As round as the bottom of a baked beans metal can
She smacks her lips
Her solution grips
In the music of a tobbacco smoke
In it she seeks
But remains sick
Running away
She reads the dailies
Needs a rope to keep on pulling
Needs a hope to keep on looking
Her pen has run out of ink
It stinks
that she sings no more
It hurts that she's in a dreamer's galore
Wake up!
Change your gear
Disregard your fear
Open your eyes then
Listen
To the sound.
The sound of your thoughts.
The voices in your head
That are silenced.
Dread.
She seeks to find but
Rescinds.
Her pride
Her roots
Her normality ceases to exist
When she takes this twist.
1 comment:
Very real! Very nice poetry.
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