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Cry Me a Bridge

In the park I saw an average-looking angel,
And her eye was pointing at mine.
I mustered up all of my blood and said,
All the best people are foreign,
From the far side of somewhere else.
If I dig my own grave,
Will you dance with me?
There is no one around here I know.

She said, I’d rather not have my own opinions,
But I can’t stand the silence of stars,
And I can never get used to being born.
Finality just doesn’t sit well.
All I feel is this wind in my eyes.
So if I cry you a river,
Will you cry me a bridge?
I think everyone needs somewhere to go.

Comments

writerwoman said…
She said, I’d rather not have my own opinions,
But I can’t stand the silence of stars,
And I can never get used to being born.
Finality just doesn’t sit well.


Freaking amazing work! You know this poem is genius, right?

I truly love it. Don't mind my gushing. LOVE IT!
writerwoman said…
I am going to mention this poem at Poets Who Blog.
Ralph Murre said…
excellent poem . . .
Mariacristina said…
I stopped by to read after visiting Poets who blog. I love the conversation between the angel and the narrator. It's a wonderful, whimsical way to express how lonely existence can be sometimes.
janetleigh said…
This is absolutely stunning, squaretraveler!
Genius? As Sara so exactly stated?
YES!
I'll be adding your link to my blogroll.
Cendrine Marrouat said…
You are a very fine word crafter. Your style is very unique!
This poem is amazing!

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