| General Poetry
posted May 17, 2018 |
Feeling sorry for yourself?
If I were a painting
my colors would run
Infused with raindrops
dust and mud
Faded from the sun
and spotted with blood
If I were a painting
my colors would run
If I were music
I would play out of tune
a cold melody that
would fade into gloom
A melancholy dirge
that is filled up
with doom
If I were music
I would play out of tune
If I were a used book
that someone had bought
with pages torn out
they can't follow the plot
Lining parakeet cages
would be my lot
If I were a used book
that someone had bought
If I were a child
an orphan I'd be
No bed time stories
or sweet hugs for me
No mother around
to give comfort so free
If I were a child
an orphan I'd be
If I were a woman
at the end of her rope
seeking answers that
don't lie in liquor and dope
Will those pills in the
drawer help?
I'm betting they won't
If I were a woman
at the end of her rope
If I were to die
I might be a ghost
haunting a mansion
or a graveyard at most
I'd surely be stuck here
no heavenly host
If I were to die
I might be a ghost
So where does
that leave me?
I really don't know
With a painted on smile
whose cracks start to show
That's all the time I have
now I really must go
I'll see you all here
next time
At my private pity show
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