• Mr. Drama, think I don’t see
    this little fling between you and misery?
    The psyche-tease and self-pity, really?
    You’re ever so petty; it’s ever so silly.

    We drone and we drown
    where even sympathy conjures only a frown;
    and here you stand, in your glass-gem-lined gown,
    most pleased with your tear-polished crown.

    See these silver tongues made of nickel,
    down which worthless words trickle.
    See the eager ears of those so fickle,
    listening only for reason to sharpen the sickle.

    See these sharp tongues that make no sound,
    and these hungry pariahs that the weak-willed surround,
    with tongues sharp as knives leaving wounds so profound
    not a mark, not a single scar can be found;
    all but a tear, and two more, and even more abound
    it’s a wonder how they never thought to turn round

    Mr. Drama, don’t you see?
    I’ve asked before, leave me be.
    All I want is a day I’m not on my last knee
    one where the pressure doesn’t build up like debris

    Can’t you see, Mr. Drama? You won’t let me sleep
    won’t let me wake up without feeling bleak
    won’t give me a day with good memories to keep
    where I don’t wonder if this is just life or I’m just weak

    Can’t you see, Mr. Drama? I don’t need the trouble.
    I don’t need someone else to my problems double;
    I don’t need someone’s coal in my rubble.
    I don’t need a bigger needle to burst my bubble.

    I need peace and quiet,
    an end to this riot.
    I need not harm non-fictional things,
    and that which should not fly need not grow wings.
    I need to chance upon the sweet nectars of life,
    and we need to end this pathetic little strife.