Scratching the Surface (Poems)

Typecast

A/N: This isnt my poem. I found it on a different website, and wanted to share it with you.

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You can't hear my screams through this house's thin walls

I can't reach the shore in your paper lifeboat

You can't pull me up as I drown while afloat

I can't help but by this spiraling stairwell be entralled

I leap over, hurtling towards the water beneath

Blood splatters on the walls, crimson swirls in the sea

You scrub the water coarse, trying to strain the impurity

But my wounds are still open; they continue to bleed

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The cycle keeps repeating, as history tends to

You're tired of all this melodrama that keeps unfolding anew

You think it's all rehearsed, that it is not impromptu

So I perform behind closed doors, waiting for your cue

During the entr'acte, I wait in the dark

The spotlight's gone out, the character has not

I have been typecast in this role for too long

It's become second nature so I play along