I don’t think this poetry thing is working The pay off doesn’t seem to rewarding I try to speak to you in poetic tongue Try to reach you like the melody of a song But the message is lost in your vacant stare So conveniently you remain unaware I could stand tabletop, shout out and proclaim How my life without you is not the same Cry, die, and lie at your feet Tell you how I feel so incomplete But I chose to save you all the drama Won’t put myself through such trauma Instead I use written words to say That there are no words to say That I love you And hope you know it true No, I don’t think this poetry thing quite hit you I sit and wonder if you even have a clue While mascara stained tears turn into ink And I write poetic lines to make you think Sheet after sheet of carefully placed words Day after day more emotions are purged Translating my pain in to a creative verse Transcribe my fears and watch them disperse Resentment and hurt has turned to anger My pen has become a bitter stranger I want to scream out "fuck you" as I walk away Tell you to ‘go to hell", I don’t need you anyway But I’ll use written words to say That there are no words to say How you’ve hurt me And hope you see Yeah, I think this poetry thing is through Can’t seem to find a way to move you Reaching out for a piece of your soul Love desperately clings to the paper you hold No more metaphorical antidotes to construct While waiting for something in you to erupt Tired of throwing you eloquent lines Hoping you’d take hold and one day climb To a higher understanding A much deeper meaning Of you and I, the consequence of time Forever embedded in the flow of a rhyme As I use written words to say That there are no more words to say