My audience claps to my stormy choices,
the thunder's loud, with rumbling noises,
the cake that delights and I get to eat,
they all tune in and take their seats
Exhilarated with the chaos I cause,
I smash through their glass doors,
to a dead end of a solid timber one,
I grab an axe, like the shining son.
Black eyes haunt my blackest days,
refuse to take in error of my ways,
chaos interrupts thoughts of redemption,
stormy weather, my boat's long sunken,
Audience award trophy, they clap to me,
as I bitterly & painfully wish to be free,
there's a reason those stars are hard to reach,
other candidates paddle out from the beach.
They keep her on strings and out of my palms,
puppet master taunts so I can't remind calm.
good times are considered bad for ratings
they need me unstable with little persuading
They need me broke and out on the streets,
ratings will shoot up as I burn my sheets,
Naïve, hardly street wise, where do I go?
through the cracks where I lay so low,
They cheer and laugh as I flee with apples,
sleep outside of a spectacular chapel,
freezing with blankets, they pump their fists
tick of approval off their popular lists.
Audience Award trophy goes to me,
blood shot eyes, un-believing
close my eyes in my ***** old blanket,
ashes in wind, scattered to the sea.
Apr 1, 2025
Apr 1, 2025 at 10:57 PM UTC
My audience claps to my stormy choices,
the thunder's loud, with rumbling noises,
the cake that delights and I get to eat,
they all tune in and take their seats
Exhilarated with the chaos I cause,
I smash through their glass doors,
to a dead end of a solid timber one,
I grab an axe, like the shining son.
Black eyes haunt my blackest days,
refuse to take in error of my ways,
chaos interrupts thoughts of redemption,
stormy weather, my boat's long sunken,
Audience award trophy, they clap to me,
as I bitterly & painfully wish to be free,
there's a reason those stars are hard to reach,
other candidates paddle out from the beach.
They keep her on strings and out of my palms,
puppet master taunts so I can't remind calm.
good times are considered bad for ratings
they need me unstable with little persuading
They need me broke and out on the streets,
ratings will shoot up as I burn my sheets,
Naïve, hardly street wise, where do I go?
through the cracks where I lay so low,
They cheer and laugh as I flee with apples,
sleep outside of a spectacular chapel,
freezing with blankets, they pump their fists
tick of approval off their popular lists.
Audience Award trophy goes to me,
blood shot eyes, un-believing
close my eyes in my ***** old blanket,
ashes in wind, scattered to the sea.
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