Monday

No one cares, no one cares
Go dry your tears, you horrid child.
And comb your hair, and wash your face
And brush your teeth and tie your lace
And go sit down, for all to see
A mannequin, a Christmas tree.


And smile, and laugh and sell your wares.
And shut your eyes, so manic, wild.
It frightens those who we adore
And makes them hate you all the more.
You can’t rebel, ‘cos you’re too young
You’ll die alone, unheard, unsung.


If only you were one of us.
If only you could see
You’d be so good, we know you would
Alas! T’will never be.

And so we have to stop you now
And this is what we’ll do
We’ll watch and smile, and in a while
We’ll go dismantle you.

4 comments:

hi said...

what does your poem actually try to convey.. not that i am a bit mad or anything but your poel has amade me one.. can you write something not so dark

the psycho guy said...

Well, it conveys what I think is happening all around me. As for writing something that isn't dark - sorry, I'm going to write what I think is good (Alas! most of this is dark)

Anonymous said...

psycho...
i have so much to say...
so i'll say it on the phone...
remind me.

~the princess

TheLadyLazarus said...

‘Twill never be, twill never be,
And no, you won’t dismantle me.
You’ll maim and cripple, spit and hiss,
But that’s it. And let me tell you this,
Try as you might, yes, stop and stare,
And point a finger at my hair.
And laugh and pass your snide comments,
Room 101, ladies and gents,
Is in your heads and minds and thoughts.
And listen up, since you’ve forgot,
I HAVE no mind or brain or thought.
A mere statue. The wife of Lot.