Author Information
You Name It
i burned bridges in effigy,
from what you did to me,
and in this rhyme you'll see,
that it meant so much to me
It's hard to see
how you could mean
so much to me
So i'll let it be
After i burn this paper
And i burn this CD
After i burn my cheeks
From these tears i leak
Like the weak weeping willow
the muse for so much dribble
and wasted ink scribbled,
on a paper
like the way you tried to taper,
me to fit your needs
to fit me in your scene
because i was still green
and wet behind the ears
fears raised tears,
and i was stuck like a deer,
in the headlights, of a john deer truck
or maybe struck by a dear john letter
because the load letter tray is empty
Just like me?
Try to predict these lines
just like you tried to finish my sentences
sentencing me to hours of community service
with this surplus,
of energy and thought
to give me time to think about the preconcieved line.
empty just like me, or empty like your heart?
empty from the start?
more like a tree stripped of its bark!
Because i've got a terrible bite.
and you, manu
factured, my fractured,
papryus skin,
to make post-it notes
letting me know,
that i'm akin,
to every self-realization, you had about humanity.
throwing in words that rhyme like "calamity"
its sad to see,
you fly like a pig.
with a head on a stick,
broken glasses and a prick,
to make blood drip.
cutting deep, the skin splits up
divided by the meridian,
with the median that sets the rhythm.
moving like a sine wave,
you said i'm too square to make the grade.
because of your analog attributes
differed drastically,
defining dignified digital drops
designed to deepen dormant dark blocks,
like you darken my doorstep
with every step your base lept
from its foundation,
changing your plane and situation,
its the station-ary,
jack-o-lantern pattern,
always crooked while smilin'
i should have known you were up to something.
that light in your head made your movements look shady.
casting shadows of doubt on me,
until i tore up your letters that surrounded me.
letting out a cry of defeat.
because it came down to winning a power struggle,
and i quit the war and stood in a puddle,
as you rained on my parade.
i became my own protege
its sad to say, that i had to write this song,
in order to move on.
and i'm gone,
freyed, but not a-fraid
