Variation on a Theme


Daunting lyrics.

Tortured spirit.




I'm not a cynic.

But this poetry just seems to be

The window dressing that we cheerfully put on

And try to assess what everything means to be.

Casting ten dollar words in an attempt to make it seen to me

That you are much more than you ever dreamed to be.

Your thoughts, like mine, are basic.

Animalistic rage... Who can erase it?

Base impulse ensnared within seemingly quixotic caves.

How you can taste it.

Knowledge of the dirt that colors our skin.

Trying hopelessly to paint a silhouette of something faint

That you can call your soul.

Please... Succumb to the taint

That paints you so hollow and cold.

Shineless glitter littered across your aching breath

Reconstructing pointless pieces of what's left.

Free your mind

And partake in the silly rhymes

Of something sick you once despised relinquishing your solemn guise to.

Float with me onto this lower level

Reach inside your gut and say with me, "I'm not a rebel."

"Just a wannabe devil."

"God, I never wanted to settle and say my thoughts were but a pebble

In this edgeless meadow."

Look around, at all these souls unique

With insignificance that reeks

From here to next fucking week.

This is getting excruciatingly old.

Every path we trek has already been sold.

So muster whatever it is in you bold

And add to it a slight twist...

A different name, or a different face your heart has missed.

And let our cliches gleam.

Slight variations on the same goddamn theme.

View grahf's Full Portfolio