?

Log in

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Poetry Time (X-posted from MySpace)

Dedicated to you-know-who; directed at you-know-who-you-are

So I'm not indie enough to join your little clique.
You're not Eighties enough to keep up with me.
If I say that enough, maybe that'll do the trick
As I battle the ancient demons of misery.

So you're much adored by the folks in the in crowd.
You've still failed to make an impression on me.
As I think those thoughts, I resolve to be proud
Enough to make that truth fill me with glee.

Holding tight, holding tight onto my pride
As I flash the biggest smile my face can make
Hoping that it betrays the sadness inside
And struggling to head off another heartbreak.

So I'm not pretty enough to be squired around town
Your promises and loyalties are made with gossamer
So when your looks finally start to let you down
I'll laugh as others ask, "What happened to her?"

So you think my mindset betrays my calendar age
And I seem unhip and sadly old-fashioned to you.
When you're older your youth will fill you with rage
And deep satisfaction will my own memories accrue.

Holding tight, holding tight onto my pride
As I flash the biggest smile my face can make
Awaking to the nascent joy that's growing inside
And a high self-regard I'm no longer to fake.

So my intelligence had to be cultivated into being
Yours, natural-born, apparently serves you no good
Your conversations lapse into gigglefits and peeing
And mine are about connections and being understood.

So none of my origins are glamorous, it's true
And your own hometown is much more in the limelight
My town is growing fast and soon it will get its due
As yours dies out from being squeezed too tight.

Holding tight, holding tight onto my pride
As I flash the biggest smile my face can make
I've finally cast those nasty demons aside
And now my self-confidence is at last awake.

I like myself for the first time in my history
And I'm not afraid now to look you in the eyes
And tell you how little you finally mean to me,
You who had made me feel like a booby prize.

Your time will come when the demons will infest you
And taunt you constantly with their remonstration.
Don't approach me for help as I'll follow your cue
And do nothing as you go mad from self-repugnation.

I float freely into orbit and look down right into you
And see all those terrible things that you used to do
And now my time has come for me to take hold of myself
And watch your empty words gather dust up on the shelf.