Sad suburban stories.

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A frown is reflected
in a broken-hearted, teenage mothers eye.

My differences rejected
in this facist country's sullen sigh.

With all the same old features. pick your coulor,
choose your tone of voice
to recite the same old worn out prayer.

Todays fathers run off and when children starve and freeze,
and waste away,
they really couldnt care!

We just grow up as hypocrites.
Our brains and hearts so full of shit!

Gaze out my window (into yours)
and watch the tears and how they pour.

Care about our appearance not our mind.
As long the others are'nt innocent WE CAN SHINE!
Last edited by nothingface on Tue Dec 18, 2007 3:36 pm, edited 1 time in total.
The Best
And Most Beutiful Things,
Cannot Be Seen Or Even Touched.
-----------------------------------------




User avatar
Gender Female
Points 890
Reviews 5
Good job. I like the biting, cynical feel the poem portrayed to me, and the vivid images that it described. But it seems just a bit too angry or angst-filled for my taste.

n this facist countries sullen sigh.

Grammar bit: countries should be 'country's', as it is showing ownership of its 'sullen sigh'.

Keep on writing! :3



The ink in which our lives are inscribed is indelible.
— Helena 'HG' Wells, Warehouse 13