Like I've mentioned before, I like to dabble in other forms of writing to keep my creativity flowing. Here's a poem I write almost 5 years ago.
Singing songs for all this time,
Ignorantly ignoring the truth.
Through the crash of the drums,
Past the cold staring eyes,
And the silent but evident sighs.
Was it something I said?
Was it something I did,
That dashed the color, the joy from each face?
They just stare like the dead.
Their glares, knives at my throat.
To the Reaper, my career will fall.
Now knowing, yet knowing all along.
What a wonderful tragedy this will be,
As the last note rings endlessly in my head.