deepundergroundpoetry.com
Silent Accolade
The accolade plays,
but my ears are full
of doubt, scepticism
and the striking
of the second hand
as my hours
dance away.
The television set gives
stupid faces for the idiots
to gawk at.
The conversations have all
been heard.
One is left wondering:
'who or what
is this for?'
The empty bottles
are no longer laughing
with me, but instead
they cry out for companions
as I begin to feel
more alone than ever.
but my ears are full
of doubt, scepticism
and the striking
of the second hand
as my hours
dance away.
The television set gives
stupid faces for the idiots
to gawk at.
The conversations have all
been heard.
One is left wondering:
'who or what
is this for?'
The empty bottles
are no longer laughing
with me, but instead
they cry out for companions
as I begin to feel
more alone than ever.
Published 28th May 2010
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