The misery ball
I know you’re tired of dancing with ghosts,
the fading memories of the ones that left and forgot about you,
their big smiles, and the laughter before their departure.
I know you’re tired of loving them with such a strenght,
with so much heart, with so much pain
that even your feet hurt by the end of the ball.
***
My son, you’re your mother’s child,
and you dance just like her:
You go crazy, you chase hard,
bleed yourself dry,
pull up every trick under your sleeve
hoping them to stay;
and you never think about the hit
that comes after they’re gone;
and you know maybe that’s dumb,
maybe that’s reckless…
but you go back again to the land of the dead
every time you think you’ve healed enough,
to the feild where you’re going to decease once again,
ready to put up the biggest fight,
‘cause you hope to conquer this time
even tough you know you’ve never,
ever, won a thing in your life.
***
You love,
and you love,
and you love again;
and you hope for better days,
while you’re dancing in the night dark,
faking laughter and a smile with your folks,
but you know you just want to run back home
to hide your loneliness in the drawer
of the insanity.
***
You keep hoping for prince charming
and you never seem to find him.
You serch for him in every male face you see,
in any single man that smiles at you,
’cause you were raised believe in fairytales,
in the pearled smile of the white knight
that was supposed to reform the sad storyline
that your life has always been;
that strong man with a pure heart,
with the courage of a lion,
the heart of a hero,
that sword that cuts in half the pain,
that arrow that always hits the target.
***
You were raised to believe
that love was the force
that could heal the broken
jar inside of you
— but you’re done with dancing in this never-ending ball,
and you’re done with dreaming about fairytales, princes,
heroes, pale white weddings, and a golden crown,
and you’re done with all the breaking
and you’re so done with crying over men.
