A worthless cause
nside the mausoleum under wings of illusion
Your spiderwebs drew around my aquiline body
Spraying words of ill-content
Which i cared not; though listened
With earnest
Pretending the context
Excited me
But it was your veins that did it
It was not in your capacity to see
That you can never lift a blade of grass
Without the applause of an audience
You wish to change things
But how can you?
You picket and scream and protest
To no avail
When Ibsen single-handledly
Lead the beginning of a revolution
Ridiculed and chastised
To curl up in the arms in the stranger
And you, you make a fool of yourself
What have you accomplished?
Nothing!
Not until you prompt an intellect
To grow beyond itself
Will you be worth a mention
But you, with your your
Fangled, juvenile notions
With seep into the quicksand
And down, down
It’s worthless, dearie.
Don’t you see that?
Art is the only thing worth fighting for
And yet, you care about things
Unrelated to your life
Why?
Please, don’t, it smirches your reputation
And you cannot be worthy of a mention for that.
