A Complaint Of My Own Poem by A Waltz For Zizi
A Complaint Of My Own
I believe you could be something
than all us who tell you how pathetic you are,
would hate, for being beautiful
but you... you choose to write poetry,
you choose to hide yourself from your aims,
you sheath your ambitions and take up that pen.
O, how I hate that pen! That pen makes you
ordinary, and that's worse than being mediocre
much worse. It's like being dead.
Do you want to die?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/19/2024 12:12:13 PM # 1.0.0.1119
