Mar 2013
Overlooked, underfoot, brushed aside
the bottom line is this: I’m sick of looking up.
My eyes are tired, facing the sky
trying to fill my cup, droplets from above,
sipping this rainwater aint the same
I’m drained. Loose change, who’s changed?
Seems deranged that I’m deemed useless
yet people walk all over me.
The view’s strange, my lids need books,
tips need silver, copper and such.
Quite often I’m just disregarded as being there,
slightly rough to the touch, a sight stolen so sleight.
Not even a part of the wall, not a brick,
just another slab in the floor, holding up ****.
the bottom line is this: I’m sick of looking up.
My eyes are tired, facing the sky
trying to fill my cup, droplets from above,
sipping this rainwater aint the same
I’m drained. Loose change, who’s changed?
Seems deranged that I’m deemed useless
yet people walk all over me.
The view’s strange, my lids need books,
tips need silver, copper and such.
Quite often I’m just disregarded as being there,
slightly rough to the touch, a sight stolen so sleight.
Not even a part of the wall, not a brick,
just another slab in the floor, holding up ****.
This is the only sneak peak that you are getting from any of the new writing that has been put into my upcoming second book; Crooked Looking Glass. I hope you like it, there is no definite meaning to this one, not that there is with any text, so make of it what you will.
