of writing all these
sweet, sappy, lovesick poems
all these exultations in my
tear-stained, lonely, cry-for-me-please days
these fall-on-my-knees days
is a "different shade of gray".
anymore of my
of this "life barely worth living"
of these people who aren't giving
me nearly enough affection.
i will throw down my pen
i will rip up these pages
but, please, god,
don't let me write down one more
about the over-played and under-stated
"bane of my existence".
if i go on one more rant about
some guy who wronged me
in some terrible way
and can i get a little sympathy
and oh dear, look, my feelings run so deep
or how i can't solve the
myriad of my own problems
but here, let me offer you some
to soothe your fears,
Because writing sappy, lovesick poems
doesn't get me any closer to getting laid
all those whining complaints
only drive more people away
metaphors and symbols
are never interpreted the same
and "ranting" skips alongside "raving"
on the road of "mad"
to a sterile, white cell.
i'll put down all my words, you see, because
of writing about me.
Copyright © Allison Kinzy | Year Posted 2007
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