The match maker
whether he/she is asian or cacasian
whether that red string is tied on the foot or from the hearteveryone has someone in the end of that stringsome has it tangled and gets a misunderstanding.
but most people search for what is in the end of that stringbut i stand here holding this this string in hand and a pair of scissors in the otherand wanting to cut it cause i don't want to play this string game
i hate bumping
i hate being tangled
to make things better i just cut it.
simple
sweet
and lonesome
but somehow lonesome doesn't bother me.it bothers a lot of people
but my morals and values makes my move a very hard one to handle.
but whatever happens it'll happen.
as for now the string is in my handthe scissors in the other hand.
one day when i crack and cut this
i'm sorry everyonebut this red tango will be over
=)
screaming to the world
I LOVE YOU!!!
2 comments:
This would be killer street poetry recital. Pull a one person flash mob with a wooden box. Stop on a corner and scream this out. Repeat every week, at the same spot, the same time for like a season. I bet by the end you would have a crowd waiting for you to appear. Then again, what do I know. I cut my string years ago...
I cut my string because my search is over. My wife found me and when she did, it was like a bell was rung and I knew from then on everything was going to be alright. But before, i hated the string game. It left me disturbed and lonesome, but not really alone. Alone but not lonely. But then the lighting struck and I have been drunk from my wifes love ever since.
Post a Comment