The Poetry Gripe

Desire to Sing

Belt it out to the crowd, weary not of their silent vow

Against the light do you stand, dressed up in your fad

Completely oblivious of the world that has come to stand in for show

Knowing and saying, who is this person

Upon this stage we should give it listen

Maybe they aren't bad, but the groceries beckon

I think they may find some use here

For if they are terrible, red will be smeared

Do not think that I enjoy that moment

When all are listening and interested in beckoning

I hate this

You are all terrible

The thought I shared

Was one so memorable

But it was torn and broken, shredded in light

Now I know why people get stage fright

The world is mean

Unwittingly so

God why'd I do this

I shouldn't have shown

Deep down my desire is real

To appeal to the ones that look like seals

I trust no one

My inner thought pleads that I return to the place where I once laid the beat

Old rusted smell and caramel wood

Does an old mic stand

Waiting in peace

I walk to this stage

No one atleast

I take the mic and the lights fade away

Nothing in this world ever stays the same

I wrap it around and take a breath, leaping down into the crowd of death

Do I find the place that knows

How good my song is

Now it shows

But too late the light has faded

For now I see, that death has been fated