I wrote a poem that no one reads
On barren ground I planted seeds
I begged for love but no one heeds
I was deserted and in despair
I was a mystery to society
Where no one had a use for me
I had no place I needed to be
No one to really care
Then I sang a song sweet and low
Played the tune and played it slow
The world listened to the music flow
And begged me for more
Then I sang a song low and sweet
My adulation was complete
As the people worshipped at my feet
Or gathered outside at my door
Then suddenly I realised
I’d become someone I despised
Saw myself through weary eyes
didn’t like what I saw
So I turned to deny the world at last
And turned to hide in my past
Choosing to become an outcast
To hide away in shame
But the music never really dies
It lives on in some disguise
And I am left to realise
That nothing stays the same
I wrote a poem that no one reads
On barren ground I planted seeds
The poem expanded to become a song
The seeds grew vines thick an strong
But the love I begged for was never there
Still deserted and in despair…