There's not a thing that's not been done before
a million times, these lover's oaths, these ties
these pleas, these threats of suicide, these cries
for attention, for everything and more
evisceration- leaves the bleeding hearts sore
every time. There's nothing new and therein lies
the problem- each set of romantics arise
and regurgitate, these same roles we wore
like clothes, typecast us as sacrificial
victims, doomed to repeat this, line by line,
reading out love-sonnets like they were mine
and each character is superficial,
our truths and our natures drawn out absolute,
stereotypes speaking whilst we stand here mute.
Author notes
Heartbreak ain't the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind.
Written July 5th, 2006
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