Here at Sunset

you always want the one you don't have.

and the one that you do have is always there.

and the one you don't disappears as fast

as the long island railroad going past

and you wanna believe that everything

happens for a reason, like the myth of

demeter and her daughter with the seasons

but you just can't seem to get things right

no matter how hard you try, sometimes you

wonder if you'll even survive. and your friends

start to change but then you think to yourself " maybe it's me"

your falling far away from them like the leaves from the trees

in autumn. and the last time you saw them they

were hounding you bout your new style or new love

and sometimes you look to the sky up above and

hope you're a reincarnation of someone who was

so fantastic. but when you look down, you spit

on the ground cause you know that the world is plastic.

and at one time it wasn't and you're nostalgic of those

times even though you weren't born yet and to you

they only exist in ancient genius' rhymes.

like how you feel old poets are your only friends sometimes

and all you wanna do is cry but your tears don't form

you must have ran out of them during your last soul shattering storm

and then in comes someone who convinces you he's warm

but he's just the same, as him, as you as them

you learned to tell peoples motives by looking into

their dilated pupils. and it's always loop-holes and mouthfuls of

manipulated morons trying to kill the high your on.

and everyone starts turning into the big bad wolf, you're so sick

and you wish you listened to your mama when she told you

to build that house made of bricks, but now his breath flown you

and your drifting in the mix. and you fall and land on your head

and your clothes are shred. and you see a little cute froggy

but turns out your misled and then he steals the only thing you have left.

and you can't scream theft! cause you're so deep in those woods

and you'd do anything you could for things to change

because you're so fed up and deranged

with always being the saddest girl

and sometimes you wanna say "i hate the world"

but what you don't realize yet that these times, these places,

and faces, hover over every single page you write

and sometimes they kill you like an alligator bite

but you should takes these ideas and tie em to a kite

and let the clouds carry them so you're soul and the sky can reunite

you're words will marry the atmosphere, like when the day marries the night

when the sky turns orange.

- Marilyn Metzger

January 4th 2012