Radio hums too-quietly in the background,
white noise to my e'er simplistic ears.
Cabaret of lemonade sweet upon my lips,
contrasting the bitterness of tears.
Still, heavy smoke hangs on the July wind,
remeniscent of a night of joy.
Sparrows scream of nightmares sweet;
angry dreams of beautiful boys.
Every skeleton that populates my closet,
they join the fragile revelry.
A wall covered in half-finished pictures...
how shall I put this poetically?
And here I sit, pretending,
trying to complicate my own simplicity.
Maybe I'm just crying out
to the ghosts that ne'er answer me...
**Wow, ok. So I haven't written a poem defining myself in a little while...or at least not in the first person....bleh**
