The semi social lack of achievements throws an aire of variety into the crowd
They sit silently, frozen in time by the computerized programming on the big screen
The master of deception throws in tall tales for fun
No one listens to him anymore
The audience barely fidgets while they wait and their eyes go glossy
They let it happen
Something inside screams 'make them listen' but its all futile
Small cracks form in my eyes; They make me intolerable
The screen forms new images every second, telling a story that never mattered
My head screams "whats the point?"
I become impatient as the shapes go blurry
Sunday, tell me your secrets
[C]Someday
YOU ARE READING
The Skeleton With a Crown
PoetryA poem book with all of my kx poems. Some sad, some old, but hey arent we all?
