Saturday, January 29, 2011

Weight of the World

No I ain't much of a writer, nor much of a lover, it is true; though, I haven't had the chance to prove myself to you. I live out in the cold, in the wind and in the rain, and I cower from the dark, I cower from the pain. Yet everything I write, I dedicate to you, and everything I love, I'd sacrifice for you. You're the one who smokes the last cigarette while the vestiges of the day melt away.

No, you won't pause to buy my book, no you won't pause to take a second look. To you I'm just that small, and you stride by, feeling tall. Well I'll tell you something sir, you simply can't compare. No; to try, you wouldn't dare. You're too afraid of coming out of it feeling inferior; you're afraid of feeling like one of us. You're too afraid to see the sky from way down here, because from here you feel it all; the whole weight of the world.

Fine, don't turn around and see, don't learn what it is to be. Ma'am you may hurry along, but the world won't sing your song. It'll voice our praises, the ones you trod down, we, who one by one, you pushed out of town. No, ma'am I ain't an artist, but may I please take your likeness? I'll show the world your face, the one you're ashamed to wear.

While the dark chases you through your mind, you run and run, too afraid of what you'll find. Do you dream we'll sit in the corner and laugh at you,? Do think our voices will haunt you as you pass? Go on, run, your number's up; go on, run, you know that we'll catch up.

No, see, I ain't a poet; no, see, I ain't a painter; but now can you see, that doesn't mean I'm worthless. And if you try to make us feel otherwise, we'll rise against you; the whole world will rise against you. And you'll die, crushed under the weight of the world: the burden you made but the burden you couldn't bear. Next time you go to light your cigarette, we'll hold the flame. We'll set your world alight.

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