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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2161050-American-Tragedy
Rated: E · Poetry · Melodrama · #2161050
I didn’t know the sound of alone until I heard the flash of an echo.
I didn’t know the sound of alone
Until I heard the flash of an echo.
Tears in an empty pail splash,
No matter how I try to keep them in.
The slow drying at a fireside
Was the slow dying of broken dreams.

Until I heard the flash of an echo
My mind, and therefore beliefs
Were skewed and ready to fall.
One more domino stands on a table,
Ready for a spring breeze to blow.

Tears in an empty pail splash,
Ready to float upon tides’ ebbing;
An endless metaphor of salt water,
Coming to take away the pain
That exists only when we let it.

No matter how I try to keep them in,
Like an elastic expanding waistline,
Telling of sloth and society richness,
The poor ‘woe is me’ words escaped,
Never to be relocked in Pandora’s Box.

The slow drying at a fireside
And the slow dying inside
Once again echo American tragedy,
As I look at Headline News crawling
And wonder at the fools on parade.

Was the slow dying of broken dreams
Really worth the pain of belief?
I ask the answerless questions again,
And know I will not be content
Until talking heads be mute upon the floor.

I didn’t know the sound of alone
Until I heard the flash of an echo;
Tears in an empty pail splashed
No matter how I tried to keep them in.
The slow drying at a fireside
Was the slow dying of broken dreams.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2161050-American-Tragedy