Performing Arts

This poetry is hard to read
It’s prophesising death for me
A stage prepares for tragedy
A part we played too well this year
Your turn of phrase is mastery
You knit and weave a tapestry
But art is subjectivity
I can’t appreciate this piece
PRE-CHORUS
I’m not sleeping lately
Nothing feels the same way
I’m not sleeping lately
Nothing feels the same
Acts of kindness and sorry scenes
You were hiding contempt for the life we lead
This is the slow returning arc of misery
I confided and you agreed
Said we’d fight it, but this is a losing streak
I have become my father years before I’ve even been me
Didn’t feel the fault lines stirring
Couldn’t smell the castle burning
I didn’t see the slow decay, the flakes of paint
A bedroom turns from red to grey
And now her hands to my lips
Telling me I don’t deserve this
Let’s hear another cold cliché, like people change
But a snake will always be a snake
PRE-CHORUS
I’m not sleeping lately
Nothing feels the same way
I’m not sleeping lately
Nothing feels the same
Acts of kindness and sorry scenes
You were hiding contempt for the life we lead
This is the slow returning arc of misery
I confided and you agreed
Said we’d fight it, but this is a losing streak
I have become my father years before I’ve even been me