So This Is It?
So this is it
This is the dark poem that passes for
A suicide note
This is it
The forbidden wishes of long vanquished woes
Rising to the surface
The shady bedsit affair
With an old fold down divan
The lonely poker face
The maurading consumer
Of daily miseries
So this is it
The dark coated obsessiv e
With the nicotine rings on the finger
The shades of muffled diassapointments
The lonely walker in a sunny afternoon haze
So this is it
The daze upon days upon daze
The transcript of a one man show
A spectacle of rock n roll
And soul to soul
Curtain dark discontents
Radio voices
Roll calls
Of who's who
Of famous dead
singers and poets and writers and composers and
did you here about the old lady at number 42?
Her remains were found one hot summer
Her cat had gone unfed for days
No one knew her name
When she had died
so is that it?
THE END
yvette smith
poem by Yvette Smith
Added by Poetry Lover
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