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Lyrics of the Lonely Seventeen-Year-Old

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Crumpled writing in the trash can

Crumpled writing in the trash can

Crumpled writing in the trash can

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I sit here for hours

Conjuring up words that I can write

And I can only hope that these

Mental monsters might put up a fight

And conquer

The beast that is reality

And make it so maybe

I can get these dreams out of me.

It’s just that I can’t do this

I’m sorry, I don’t know

But I need to stop

Being a poor player in life’s show.

And I’m tired of waiting

For you to see behind the curtains

And understand why

I think nothing in my life is certain.

No, I didn’t write these lines

Wallowing in my dejection,

They were born inside a twisted mind

Only wanting to make perfection.

Striving to create

Something lasting between me and you

And I overthink like Hamlet

Except my question’s “To be and what to do?”

Or I’m Romeo, oh Romeo,

Confusing love with a crush I chase,

Being fate’s fool

Without the slightest sign of grace.

But Macbeth seems most fitting

For a person like me,

‘Cause if I was a main character,

You’d want me dead by act three.

I’m losing this battle

To the army of choices

And the world’s gone mad

But only I hear the voices.

There’s an uncertainty

That follows me in my darkest hours

Fighting me, hiding in me,

Sucking away all of my powers.

You and I aren’t together,

So free these thoughts shall roam,

Until they break out of my mouth

And make my mistake their home.

It was not you who caused my mind

To inflict this constant pain

It was me who put the figurative bullet

Through the literal hole in my brain.

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1 Comment

One Response to “Lyrics of the Lonely Seventeen-Year-Old”

  1. Tabatha Rubitski on October 22nd, 2016 9:43 pm

    In my opinion, this is some quality work right here. The way you keep the metaphor of being a “player in life’s show” going throughout the lyrics, really seems to enhance the message, making a deeper impact in the reader. The last four lines are absolutely striking and magnificent as well, they left me in a state of “Woah…” for a bit afterwards.

    If this was in a poem book, I would buy that poem book.

    [Reply]

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Lyrics of the Lonely Seventeen-Year-Old