Maybe I Should Scream
(a poem)
Dunno why you whine
Like a spoiled little child
Spoiled children, people love them
Relations anyway
But
Love counts
But not much
When, like me, all that you can get is what you've
Scraped off the sidewalk
And pulled out of the gutter
Then life starts to look up
With this shiny refurbished love in your hands
When the owner comes along and recognizes it
Pulls it from your hands with words of thanks
The miserable bum
Maybe I'm a poet and a lover
But not a very good one
Maybe I should cry
Maybe I should scream
4 comments:
Yo, this is Andy's friend, Dom. From what I've heard and read, you are an interesting fella. You got some pretty sweet stuff on this blog.
Keep it sweet! Later!
Thanks Dom. I like to think I'm an interesting fella, and I hope that things will just continue to get sweeter here. <8)
please, please don't cut yourself or something. You're not depressed are you?? oh, and about the whole relatives-loving-the-spoiled-brat business, we don't. We just pretend to to avoid the wrath of their parents (who are sometimes just like them)
No, please don't worry. I'm not depressed... And I'll never cut myself or anything like that. How can people bear to cause so much pain to the people who love them? Why are they driven down that path? Well, anyway, don't worry about me.<8) I'm fine. (note: parents are usually the people doing the spoiling and adoring. I'm not blaming the rest of the relations.)
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