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Jeremy Betts Jan 2021
They say everybody's bound to play the fool but I'm always the biggest in the room, a typecasted tool
A hopeless romantic who'll ignore the red flags and shrug 'em off, just act cool
Just to avoid numerous rejections like in the cesspool that was high school
But the pain of a lie is far more cruel, every one adds fuel and makes me feel minuscule, I'm weak, that's your que

Here's your chance to tie the knot and kick the chair, I'll pretend there's no one there
No one will see, you'll be free from me, freed of the need to care
So look at that there, all laid out, replace the smile with a pout and mess your hair
Give it one or two weeks after sorrow peeks then you can drop the act live on air

My soul will forever dangle here from the beam of my despair, a carcass chandelier
I want to cry out but the rope...well let's just say my throat is beyond repair
Seems that even in death I'm a forgotten chapter or just briefly skimmed over
Come to think of it, my body they have yet to discover, both in life and death I'm shown I don't really matter

I knew this life wasn't going to turn out well for me. How you ask? I listen carefully and obsessively study my history
You want a piece of me? I won't put up a fight, you can take it all, go ahead and feast on me
Just have the decency to finish me off completely and stack my remains neatly so I become part of the scenery
And be a reminder of your victory, you defeated me, who knew a broken heart could actually **** somebody...
****

©2021
Àŧùl May 2021
They cooked stories about Abraham,
Peddled the lies about plagiarism,
God Bráhmàņ became a deity,
Bráhmàņ people I mean,
Demeaned the ****** status,
Idol worshipping is optionality,
They typecasted Đhàrmà to an -ism,
My HP Poem #1927
©Atul Kaushal
Ash Slade Jul 2017
I come from where everyone knows
your name
Everybody acts the same
thinks the same
Doesn’t ever change.
I come from three schools where
there were no secrets
People knew it all.
Same old kids
recycled teachers
Year to year  
saw you at your best n' worse.
I come from school newspapers  n' voice discovery.
Hard to be honest in
country towns where critics aren't
Welcomed.
I come from fabric stained in
rebellion. Instilled by my parents
sowed in experience.
I come from past n' present
in a world that's so lost.
I'll only say it's worth any cost
to reconnect with roots.
Walk steps in my shoes
miles on this highway.
It might become clearer what your
willing to pay.
I come from needing to reform standards
from not wanting to be typecasted 'cause I'm small town America born n' bred.
I come from assumptions that I'm prejudiced
when I'm not.
From needing to figure out my place
inside n' beyond this isolated box
Where people are carbon copies.
Christian C Apr 2020
I look in the mirror
To see a young boy
Masquerading
Typecasted into roles with
Skin-crawling costume design
Constricting and waist-binding
The seams searing the skin
Molded to meet the suffocating criteria
There is sorrow deep in his eyes
Knowing he has deceived and deluded
And performed this scene for far too long
Acting restlessly in a futile effort to belong
But he was never meant for this role
The blinding stagelights and heavy curtain
Even if he will miss the roses and applause
He wants nothing more than freedom.

Look at me,
Look at my smile that dances in the natural light.
jeffrey conyers Oct 2024
Ok, how you typecast love?
None complains about like actors.
Love has made many happy relationships and affairs.

And unlike actors' complaint about typecasting.
For a role that made them relevant to many.
A lover in love welcomes this attention.

Sure, some would love being unknown.
Once famous they hide to be alone.
But to achieve success, you find them everywhere.

Willing and ready to be typecasted.
Thank God love doesn't have that mess.
Or does it?

— The End —