The party grew stagnant
with the odiferous stench
of a few crybaby’s on the playground
He did this
she did that
they cried to the principal
But no-one really knew or cared
Most were there to have fun
An outlet from life’s scheduled tasks
A time to imagine and create
But the cries grew louder
Many tried to ignore them
But for others, their whining
reached a crescendo
that pierced the veil of fantasy
And the poison they spewed
gave way to
a new awakening
A moment of clarity
sustained and strengthened
through the ultimate realization
that the party
and the playground
should be theirs alone
For it is their world
The only world in which they can exist
Unable to thrive beyond its boundaries
The walls that hold them
built from their own insecurities
They need cry no more
For inside such a small world
they truly are the victims
hopefully we will get there!!!
Only when they start yelling it's my fault...I'm gonna give them reason to yell.
Grand write Edwin!
Lisa
superb poem!You really captured the phony victim to perfection.
Eileen
The "victims" cries were in faux, to gain attention, rally support, and control the playground. Hence, "no-one knew or cared". The 'metaphoric' playground represents an inconsequential, or fabricated enviroment which ultimately entraps those who wish to control it. In short, its about those who should get the 'help' they need, and not piss on everyone else.
Most were there to have fun
I find it very sad that some were only there to have fun and not know or care about someone crying out for help. Guess we all see things from different perspectives, and perhaps I have misunderstood your message. This line, with the final commentary about 'victims' leaves me with a not-so-warm feeling. Please let me know if I have misread your message.
Take care,
Sherry
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in tx., karen lynn. :(