Author: The Mad Poet PM
When I was in highschool, people's drama used to make me laugh. Now it makes me sneer. I'm not sure if that makes me a cynic or a grownup.Rated: Fiction T - English - Words: 254 - Favs: 1 - Published: 01-11-07 - Status: Complete - id: 2302812
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
the rain and the street light
rolls down Nine PM Lane (east).
That is curfew it's breaking
but the passive-aggressive type
never really cares about such
trifling little things.
Dogging heels, hissing
or rather rolling highschool snarls
of 'mommy doesn't love me'
it wants everyone to know
that nobody knows and
it doesn't want anybody to know.
the world's smallest violin, playing
'I don't give a fuck'
to the girl who said
'here's a dollar,
call somebody who cares'.
It had a nicer ring to it Back In The Day;
when local was only quarters.
(And why is distance dimes, anyway?)
Distance makes everything cheap
which is why thunder saves its dollars
for when the lightning moves away.
She was such a bitch but
when she's gone it tells everyone
they're good together.
Hissing at their heels
'Everyone wants to be me, except
one umbrella, enter stage left
you, you don't care
and no one does'.
Thunder growls in playback,
rewinding mix tapes spliced
in garages made of mice and raindrops.
I wouldn't call it music
but it's so trendily drear
and you don't have to really hear it,
not if you listen to the rain
(which thunder secretly does not
but walks in it because it looks
like he has no where else to go).
call this kid's mom. AKL 2007
Someone call this kid's mom.