My angels lacked allure.
White wings are last year's trend.
My audience liked how things were--
They won't let the episode end.
The kids, they liked me dying.
They crowed about how they "relate."
But now that I'm honestly trying
To fix things, empathy turned to hate.
Let the devils through the door.
Carry them or deny the applause,
My demons get the encore.
If life was TV, at least I could pause.
These claps are distorted.
But I guess it's better than silence?
YOU ARE READING
Of Suns & Stars
PoetryEmpty pages are a thrilling adventure, and while completion is satisfying, the more you write, the less freedom you have in what you write. That is, if you're writing a novel... Poetry has it's own rules--and far less of them, thank goodness. This...
