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By coujeaux Date: 2003 Nov 09 Comment on this Work [[2003.11.09.02.39.1937]] |
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I still can't believe what I just saw; it's nothing short of miraculous, I do declare, Is that really you standing on your own two feet, minus the crutches and despair? It's a step in the right direction, though I notice you glanced backward once again, Must be hard to kick paranoia when they're out to get you like they've always been. Don't look now, but a boogeyman is coming toward you with evil intent in his eyes, No, I must be mistaken; it was just a figment of your imagination, what a surprise. O woe is you; not even the boldest chefs would mix your whine with such cheese, Who else would dare treat a smile like it was symptom of some incurable disease? Wrapped in the security of a blanket of gloom seems to fit precisely within the act, You'd welcome seven years of bad luck as an improvement if mirrors ever cracked. I'd give an ounce of damn to pound a cure of laughter into all the miseries you sell, Don't you realize how insulting all of it is to those who lived through a genuine Hell? At risk of sounding apathetic, I say to all of you that it really could be much worse, Too often I see fate step in to amplify your drama far more than you can rehearse. Credit given where due, I salute real survivors; they inspire me to stand and fight, And count myself among their kind, but bow in respect for those of greater plight. You can't compare life stories, for we each take different paths to a common end, To those infected with psuedomasochism, that's the one thing they can't pretend. |