this is not another poem
bent on new beginnings
this is not another page
burnt out on unhappy endings
this may not be a song you'll be singing
but my tune hums the same
whether losing or winning
it's not that it all tastes the same
and it's nothing i forgot
it's the meaning i make from
we are all gonna rot
surly or saintly
borderline or insanely
with grace
or with hate
it all ends the same
so now i'm seeing joy
in each new troubled ploy
while i'm watching you ache
over all of those mistakes
that you won't take to your grave
so rise up with fists!
i'll be smiling and waving
it all is what it is
and i did my complaining
until the