we are the many
We are the manyThe masses suspended over a life we refuse to understand because it's not as fulfilling as we thought it would be
We are the dancers with disaster
Tattooed and pierced through we are your everlasting children made adults
but not seen as such
The crooners of existence's sweet irony
Misbegotten offspring of a world that wasn't expecting us
And still hasn't figured out what to do with us
So we continue to dance ridiculous
Laughing like madmen and women
waltzing into the void of obscurity from all except those we call family by familiarity of how much has been inflicted upon us
we bare scars for first introductions, exchanging of names comes after
misfits of words
born of our most cherished inactions
we dangle, spinning, at the end of frayed strings like maddened marionettes
awaiting the next beautiful calamity to distract us from the imminence of our eventual final plummet
but when we do fall
we'll do so smiling
Poetry by David W Durney
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Written on 2008-09-09 at 15:12
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