Made to Fade

Life ceases to exist when talentless twits are given clout
And are told they are great by a posse of powerful fools
Where are my groupies hanging off my every word?
Cherishing my every syllable
Masturbating to every lick of my lips between sentences
Instead of being cast aside as yesterday’s news set to become someone’s bride
Tied to the apron strings of my prison longing on my linoleum
For some way out for someone to put me on their stage
So someone else can complain about lack of talent as people clap
For every word I read that has become someone else’s jealous fantasy instead

© 2009 Miss Blue

Ambient Streams

I thought about your hands,
cracks and lines tell the stories of your time.
Like the love affair of 29,
Your fingers slipped through his fingers and so did your twenties.
Reminds you of the time lost from another romp at 19
that turned into the slithering of the snake’s trap,
only to release you to find you’re 23
thinking you’re gonna go somewhere
and awaken at 25 to leave it all behind
to find the peace of mind where satisfaction lays.
Spent too many worried days with none left to spend while I spent none at all.
All the pain that laid to rest in the lines in my hands but by 49
I had taken care of my skin so well that I cannot retell all the stories of my hell that lay dormant within me.

© 2009 Miss Blue