Lament

Thursday, August 24, 2006

You raise your glass and lower your brow, and tell me that I don't know how
to gain all that I aspire to.

You raise your glass and make a toast, to all the things that you hate most
and come to in the morning with the demons.

With unpaid dues and lame reviews you school me on the latest news
and point out all the social implications.

I see your need and feel your greed groping about the room
for a semi-friendly ear that you can bend on.

If I recall your early life you strived to be a rich mans wife,
a life so far and free from strife, but too bad.

He left a nasty scar on you, you leave a lasting scar on me
so far from the reality we'd dreamt of.