Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Come now, my friend, don’t be shy, grab my calloused hand, look to my stormy eyes don’t be afraid to take a stand, this thing we can’t outrun: Ourselves. So sing along to the song of the Broken Ones. Can’t afford to exclude, no one wants to intrude, we’re all alone, only flesh and bone, painfully human Humming along to the song of the Broken Ones. We sing the pain that we have felt, trauma-stained thoughts as we belt The only thing we know and then we’re done as we sing the song of the Broken Ones. Not holding back, we’ve accepted rejection. We’re good on our own, it’s all that we know. Don’t need your protection, take your pity and go, there’s no real connection, they can’t see through our shattered glass, reflection warped, just like us, they can’t make out our song, the song of the Broken Ones. A troop of ragged rough, cynical scarred wanderers, Are we found, or lost together? We bring our own condemnation, this dark, punishing nether, by singing the song of the Broken Ones. We think we’re alone, But that’s where we’re wrong ‘cause when we sing our song, the Broken World hums along.
0
Apr 8, 2020
Apr 8, 2020 at 2:12 PM UTC
International Anthem
Come now, my friend, don’t be shy, grab my calloused hand, look to my stormy eyes don’t be afraid to take a stand, this thing we can’t outrun: Ourselves. So sing along to the song of the Broken Ones. Can’t afford to exclude, no one wants to intrude, we’re all alone, only flesh and bone, painfully human Humming along to the song of the Broken Ones. We sing the pain that we have felt, trauma-stained thoughts as we belt The only thing we know and then we’re done as we sing the song of the Broken Ones. Not holding back, we’ve accepted rejection. We’re good on our own, it’s all that we know. Don’t need your protection, take your pity and go, there’s no real connection, they can’t see through our shattered glass, reflection warped, just like us, they can’t make out our song, the song of the Broken Ones. A troop of ragged rough, cynical scarred wanderers, Are we found, or lost together? We bring our own condemnation, this dark, punishing nether, by singing the song of the Broken Ones. We think we’re alone, But that’s where we’re wrong ‘cause when we sing our song, the Broken World hums along.
Written by
Apr 8, 2020
Apr 8, 2020 at 2:12 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem