Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2018
Echo, Wood nymph of folklore
Punished by Goddess Hera
Hated, there was no choice
Fated, deprived of her voice
Repeating words you hear
Punishment for a puppeteer
You fell in love
so you thought
With Narcissus
But he got caught
Looking at his own reflection
Turned him into a flower
Not his finest hour
Leaving Echo lonely and sad

For all the cads that
Never met a mirror they didn’t like
Who’s self-absorbed refection
Removes any trace of reflection
A thought can be misleading
Even if informed by a feeling
Don’t think
Because you think it it’s true
Consider others point of view
Don’t think because I disagree
There’s something wrong with me
Don’t always refer to you
Your grandiose style
Is just a grandiose denial
And while you deny that it’s true
Only an echo believes in you
Must I echo your words
How utterly absurd
This I can’t do
Even if it displeases you
Nothing moves you
Except for the powerless, you occasionally feel
Let’s you know you’re real
And yes
The rage is real
Hidden so well
That no one can tell
As you covertly hide from yourself
Your histrionics are first rate
Always out of date
A recording from the past
You’d think, you’d have worn out the grooves
Of the characters you cast

At last
There’s never an end
To the people I meet

All the friends you absorbed
Into the persona that’s you
Each has a name
But there nameless to you
I say
I know where you got that from
You say
There’s nothing new under the sun
I say
What about originality
You say
Plausible deniability
I say
I really, really need to get away
I say
Then, why do you stay?

I’m in search of my voice
I left it behind
In another time
I need it
Have you seen it
It could be
Anywhere
Under the couch
In the closet
Under the bed

You’re looking in the wrong places
The world’s a reflection
Of the spaces
Between the thoughts
Of your stasis.

It’s true
I’m never alone when I’m with you
Like living in a zoo
Forgive my sarcasm
Lack of enthusiasm
That’s what it feels like
Being with you.
First, you’re uncle Fester
Then you’re Grandma Ester
Who are you really
You don’t know
Do You

You never looked that far
Skin deep
Go that deep
Take a look
What do you see
It isn’t me

I’m not the object of your hatred
I’m not your scapegoat
Forgive the diatribe
For I am a scribe
Looking for her voice.
I am Echo no more
Bo Tansky
Written by
Bo Tansky  100/F/Florida
(100/F/Florida)   
246
   J and sue
Please log in to view and add comments on poems