every word has its moments
their spotlight on the stage
Their voice is heard
in the play
But after they take their final bow
After the crowd shifts away
what is the 'after' that all of them chase?
Some climb, they climb high,
but what happens to the others,
the forgotten few?
They Crumble.
not good enough, too simple
too harsh, too quiet
so many flaws
in an inherently flawed world
what is truly good?
what should truly be forgotten?
Our need for perfection, our need for something brand new
all because they're not good enough
the forgotten few
Their song was sung
their life over
with just one delete button
Our mouths and hands have so many lives in them
trembling and breathing their first words
oh wait now they're dead
With the promise of new beginnings, they're kept on the page
fed lies just so they won't have to age
our words are always immortalized,
but what happens after their purpose is defied?
Is our world unified?
or are we left with a carcass of what could have been
If only we hadn't forgotten them
The forgotten few
Sing their song, loud and clear because
they're here with us
The Forgotten Few
- A Draft waiting to be something more
YOU ARE READING
Express Myself- a collection of short poems
PoetryEntrance into the forest between childhood and being an adult
