Open Poetry #45 |
Proud |
A Beautiful Disaster Member
since 2007-01-13
Posts 409 |
The same nasty job and the same decorations, The desperate faces of helpless sweatpals, Bright shouting ads at half-dead metro stations, Then evenings with you in a dark empty cell. The price of ten dollars for some inspiration, Some spirits, some sex and a pointless nightmare, Brain womittimg words for another creation, The words squirting hatred and bleeding despair, No money for life, but great plans and beginnings... They hate me for pride and the truth brought them ripe. I've chosen life with just one subtle meaning, They've chosen one of a stereotype. I say what is true and I live what is fair! I laugh at those dull social-networking mugs Who tell me: "Young thing, you're nothing in square", The kids of myspaces and audiodrugs. The lights in the streets take me back to November - Complete isolation of heart, blood and mind. The ones that I loved still forget to remember A beautiful devil - the one of this kind. The guise of my freedom has changed. Don't you care That everything else has remained? It is me! Alone in the crowd, both here and there, And *deleted* damn proud - more sober, more free. [This message has been edited by Balladeer (08-05-2009 11:52 AM).] |
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© Copyright 2009 April A. - All Rights Reserved | |||
XGarapanX Senior Member
since 2008-06-19
Posts 1435Antarctica |
Truly ·´~`·»Garapan«·´~`· |
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Alison
since 2008-01-27
Posts 9318Lumpy oatmeal makes me crazy! |
I thought this was an excellent poem. A |
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