I wonder, sometimes
in this darkness I've created for myself
you've read this book a million-one-times
yet when you're done just you put it back on that dusty shelf
you aren't interested in my insignificant crimes...

its amazing, you know?
how I can scream and cry
all the words I grab up just to throw
how when I say my unimportance makes me want to die
you only respond if the words break the flow

and isn't it incredible
that you don't give a damn
as long as my words are approprietly edible
as long as I don't take a real stand

my problems don't matter
as long as my form of expression doesn't fail to flatter
then I'll be okay
won't be put in the infirmiry today...

and nobody knew,
the one day I was true
the one day I sat down to explain
because I didn't have the fame
when I spelled it out clearly
you said you'd read it dearly
but never got back to me
never cared for what I was trying to be

so when I say I am friendless,
when I say you're a liar
it causes everything to go amiss
a moment longer of your attention is all I require...

but now my ranting has taken too long
and its appeal begins to fall apart
I must remember this poem is nothing more then a listless song
and that these songs must be sung with fake heart
... i knew i could never goddamn belong ...

If you [Log In] as a member you can discuss this work with others