| Broken Poetry, Song or Prose |
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So here I sit,
Striving for the poetry
that usually pours so freely
from heart to hand;
pen to paper.
Maybe my poetry is broken
like my heart and so much else.
Maybe I'm doomed to prose my thoughts
my gift of rhyme and juxtaposition lost,
like my soul mate, my heart and my family.
Don't know what happened to my Miss Independent
maybe Kelly's right and I fell in love
took a chance and followed my heart
even though I knew my downfall would ensue
Tina had it right, what's love got to do with it?
Sometimes I wish I could just amalgamate
all those songs into one that writes it all.
A few lines of Miss Independent, followed by a dash of Your So Vain, a sprinkle of Sober, Crawling, Break Stuff, Bodies and Last Resort,
then cover the entire conflagaration With A Broken Wing.
All the while wishing I were Comfortably Numb
as tears that fall silently from my eyes
scream out the loudest song of pain and loss
their only sound, the sad plop of tears on a page
Singing my song, writing my poetry, cleansing my soul.
© Andi 2007
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