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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #2178749
The End of A Poet
"Curtain Call: New Year's"

Late night's I stare at the portraits you paint,
Seize the most intense feelings to create,
Getting sick of it who knew, chasing this illusion drew,
So here's a rose, here's a dose of my reality,
Beautifully in a peaceful mind, that's a curse in every line,
Tears me apart inside,
Invoke my Peers to listen,
Yet they have no time as mine was well spent,
Curtain call the last call for tomorrow a new day,
Sorry to the friends I made, clutching this into fifth gear reflecting on the year,
While in the back seat staring at the rearview to think clearly,

Here's a rose for I put on the Final Show,

Late night's I stare at the portraits you paint,
Tears me apart knowing the love-hate for the poetry you make,
Inhibit restrains self-conscious debates,
Why does it seem like I'm so close to this,
Yet a foot away,
Do you notice or am I blind to this illusion?
I haven't the slightest clue if you're listening through,
Farewell was the beginning of something new,
Dear friends, I leave you this final clue,
Remember this save that,
The beginning of chapter twenty-two,
Growing sick of it don't wanna make you sad,
Who knew I'll be leaving you this final rose,
For the life you and I once had,
Just hold this final rose;

Curtain call soar absent
Unrecognized expertise
Ability prime

Applauses salute inspire too
Absolutely profound tune.


12/31/17
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2178749-Curtain-Call