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POEM 40 - Feeling Faint
My knees give in, I can't even speak, My head starts to shake, Like a rusty antique,
I fall to the side, Caught by a friend, They're always there, With a hand to lend,
Is this my imagination, Or do they begin to talk? Or are they simply moving, Or shaking, or do they laugh?
How dare they laugh, When my eyes start to close, And they water, water, Like an untrustworthy hose,
They let go of me, And I fall again, I'll smack into the ground soon, It's god's choice of when,
I hate falling this slow, Why won't it just finish? It's like one of those dinners, Which you wish were never dished,
I try to laugh, At my own small joke, And how shortly ago, I was desperate for some Coke,
Not the drug kind, Oh dear, oh no, I'm not an alcholic or drug addict, Just a regular old kid; so,
Why do I beg to be different, And yet blend in at the same time, For god's sake man, get a grip of yourself, "It's time for your next line!"
They hiss at me harshly, Not knowing my own thoughts, I turn to the audience, "Goodbye and good luck!"
I stamp off of the stage, My part in the play now done, But as soon as I stepped into the shadow, I could tell there was no more fun,
I fell down, like in my thoughts, My own imaginary world, I smack my head on a small table, All the colours begin to swirl,
I'm not one to believe in a god, And I'll stick to that until I die, But for now, I'll look to the nurse for comfort, In the hospital, where I lie.
God that was odd to write. Anyway, I took my sketchpad to school today and my friends liked the drawing I did of Joanna Newson, one of the best musicians ever, and my hero. She really is. I love her (not love love, but love, you know?)!
DaleLuck1313 · Tue Sep 04, 2007 @ 06:07pm · 0 Comments |
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