The promoterA Poem by LanaPeople tell me If only you learned Maybe your words would be pretty Maybe you wouldn't swallow the salty water And maybe the words would sing But I do feel like my heart writes for me Especially when I'm angry the letters shoot Leaving a trail of gun powder And I let it slide or crash into the abyss Of life Writing is a piece of your anatomy It's part of your arms Your legs Your veins You do it even when you don't hold a pen It's all part of the brain The last traces of thought Were created by nothing but pure air It will be read by nobody Because this whole thing Will be destroyed in a matter of minutes In a thousand million years I will be gone And Earth will sink like the Titanic It was just showbiz And whether you like it or not You are the artist And the question on everyone's lips is Who is the promoter?
© 2022 Lana |
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