Death of a Poet
Death of a Poet
I was totally
naked
on stage
the microphone
cold as my heart
my voice weak
from trying
for so long
to communicate
with you
still game
but ready
to submit
to your iron will
your imposing desire
to win at all cost
my last ditch
effort
my lead swan song
an aging fighter
climbs through the ropes
steps up to the podium
with a handful
of unruly
yellowed papers
breathes a sigh of relief
his final heckler's night
Great Poem if You're in a Coma
ha ha ha ha ha
You Call That a Metaphor, Pal
ha ha ha ha ha
One Word For You Chump....Meter !
ha ha ha ha ha
naked
on stage
the microphone
cold as my heart
my voice weak
from trying
for so long
to communicate
with you
still game
but ready
to submit
to your iron will
your imposing desire
to win at all cost
my last ditch
effort
my lead swan song
an aging fighter
climbs through the ropes
steps up to the podium
with a handful
of unruly
yellowed papers
breathes a sigh of relief
his final heckler's night
Great Poem if You're in a Coma
ha ha ha ha ha
You Call That a Metaphor, Pal
ha ha ha ha ha
One Word For You Chump....Meter !
ha ha ha ha ha
If you do not change your direction
you may end up where you are heading
you may end up where you are heading
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