Dra-ma-tic
I wish I could take
My pain and
Make money with it.
Others write of love
And then loss,
Angry dreams tossed
And burned,
Masses pay to cry.
Set my tears to song
You will find
They mean so much more
To someone
Who does not know me.
But then there is the problem of the chorus and rhymes and describing how your belly feels full of unbaked dough: squishy, fermenting and burbling. But it's just from being sad because no one is baking in this house today.
No comments:
Post a Comment