What doesn't kill me

I succumbed to your game like the moth to the flame,
Overly flattered you'd tweeted my name.
So I opened myself and gave you my page,
Arranged a date to spill my guts on the stage,
You told me I'd smash it; well what can I say?

Elated I told you just how it had felt,
Asking for nothing more than your help.
I waited for days to see what you would say,
Vain wastes of my time and emotional space,
Cos now you got fame, a celebrity name,
You're above your old self now your profile's been raised.

But this ain't a statement of hate, just my rage won't abate

So as I take tentative steps into the race
Put a new muse on the pedestal from which you came,
Erase my embarrassment and painful shame
That I placed such faith in one so lame,
I gain strength from the pain flowing through my veins
And I write these lines and hone my phrase
That contains disdain for how you behaved
I see clear past the tears that caused a haze
And I move to prove that I can still amaze

So don't be too flattered, cos my pride got battered
You should be ashamed of the dream you shattered.



Poetry by la tristesse
Read 672 times
Written on 2012-02-27 at 11:35

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text