(no subject)
Growing Up or Growing Down
by Swan Song
No one sees me as I lay dying deep within the earth.
People stomp over my body and trample my mirth.
No one notices my first movements as I spring from my shell.
No one sees me as I first wave my arms escaping my hell.
It is only when my face looks like that of a rose
Do they look at me, smile at me and even come close.
It is then they stop to smell my perfume and touch my face.
Then they try to pluck off parts of me to toy with and erase.
But soon enough I will be forgotten as you stroll the parade.
I will be rubbish to you all, just a bauble for your charade.
No one cares as the winter winds begin to blow.
No one sees me as I shake in the bitter chill of snow.
No one notices me as I turn pale and dry.
No one looks to warm me as I slowly start to die.
I am alone again in the winter wind.
Only I know how far I can bend.
I am forsaken.. forgotten.. and downtrodden....
I am neglected.
I am an abscission
For I am merely a speck in the world
What do I get for my recompense?
You shred me for your opulence.
You rip me apart and sing a song.
I am a doormat as you trod on along.
Im just a-
refection
a-confection
a-refulgence
for your -indulgence
You think that I do not bleed.
For to you I am just a tiny, fragile, insignificant
seed.
by Swan Song
No one sees me as I lay dying deep within the earth.
People stomp over my body and trample my mirth.
No one notices my first movements as I spring from my shell.
No one sees me as I first wave my arms escaping my hell.
It is only when my face looks like that of a rose
Do they look at me, smile at me and even come close.
It is then they stop to smell my perfume and touch my face.
Then they try to pluck off parts of me to toy with and erase.
But soon enough I will be forgotten as you stroll the parade.
I will be rubbish to you all, just a bauble for your charade.
No one cares as the winter winds begin to blow.
No one sees me as I shake in the bitter chill of snow.
No one notices me as I turn pale and dry.
No one looks to warm me as I slowly start to die.
I am alone again in the winter wind.
Only I know how far I can bend.
I am forsaken.. forgotten.. and downtrodden....
I am neglected.
I am an abscission
For I am merely a speck in the world
What do I get for my recompense?
You shred me for your opulence.
You rip me apart and sing a song.
I am a doormat as you trod on along.
Im just a-
refection
a-confection
a-refulgence
for your -indulgence
You think that I do not bleed.
For to you I am just a tiny, fragile, insignificant
seed.