• Sadness


    i still want to be a superhero
    saving lives and flying over the city
    but like an ailing troubadour
    pulliing my pain across the floor
    i retreat to the comfort of pillows and covers
    and dream of fighting monsters and lovers

    i still want to be a rock star
    beautiful women watch me playing guitar
    but something has blocked the lights
    and the winter hours have ruined my nights
    it's within this dark that the truth comes about
    wasting time made my youth run out.


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    EyesOfRain commented on umbrage


    I come to your page to relax and know I'm in for a bit of good reading. Another engaging poem. And oh, how I can relate.



    wow, what a wonderful thing to say. thank you for spending so much time. YOU are a lovely and REAL talent and anything positive in the way of feedback is quite the honour. thank you so much !

    hjaycarney commented on umbrage


    monsters and lovers crying in pain releasing unrest dying in shame



    well said , my friend ! wish i wrote that !

    Insideme commented on umbrage


    This really hit home with me, retreating to pillows and covers has been something I have done often in the process of life.



    thank you, i am glad if reached you....thanks for reading me.

    Marsink commented on umbrage


    Too true; wasted time pining to be that which we can never be. Excellen write, first words to last line. Thanks for drawing us into your world. you might like "Hero", though not nearly as profound as this work.



    i will read you.

    patricialouise commented on umbrage


    Good read. Darlin', you are way to YOUNG to think it is Too Late. True, somethings we have to start early in life but we learn everyday and you can still be a super star. From your poems, I know you can express yourself, your deep feelings. Use this gift. Voluteer. If you can reach but one soul you are a super star. I have faith in you.



    ya know something, you are right. it is never too late to be a superstar. when i wrote this dark poem last year i thought time had run out. i feel that starting at my age would be impossible. it wasn't, i came through it just fine. thanks for you time, most appreciated.

    Poetry is what is lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    Crush’s Poems (59)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    carried off by owls 1
    Santa Claus Is Coming Around 1
    skin 2
    the midnight girl 1
    hold 1
    here 0
    the other 1
    flashback 1
    violent pretty 1
    the people in the attic 1
    the ride 1
    my nightmares are awake 1
    no bugs 6
    waiting 3
    welcome 5
    a fetus in a clear bowling ball 6
    crows feet 7
    rats 5
    the mobster 4
    perfect 6
    jumper 5
    lady godiva 3
    malaise 3
    pirate 4
    flight on time 3
    fear of falling 4
    unfinished crow ? 5
    touch ( aka, am i made of summer ) 8
    elephant 5
    cancer 8
    skyline 5
    st. saviour 2
    satellites 4
    were you waiting for me ? 10
    snapshot 5
    fists 12
    lauren 17
    insomnia 18
    ceremony 12
    mother 14
    ash 27
    the june bug 15
    low 19
    thorns 10
    paralyzed 9
    mr. sparkle 15
    dresses 15
    glass 13
    cemetaries 18
    throe 18
    if i fell in love 27
    pills 22
    off black 20
    mannequin 22
    umbrage 12
    sick boy 12
    kelly has a big head 21
    unfairly fairy 26