There’s a reason I call this bad poetry Friday. This really sucks.
Alone (c. 1994)
She waits for a letter
or the phone to ring
To hear a voice
and the news it brings
Nobody writes
and nobody calls
So it seems that nobody cares at all
She does not exist to the people around her
All she is is yesterday’s splendor
Her tears
she’s crying
Nobody sees
that she’s dying
She is lonely
she cries and fears
until nothing is left
but a puddle of tears
Notes:
Told you it was bad.
Also: “Yesterday’s splendor”- wtf?