The music has stopped and the lights won't turn on,
The fun machine has stopped dispensing fun,
All the sins of nineteen years
Has killed off the good life
And brought out the fear
In every body part and bone
City, state and run-down home,
In every bleak subconcious thought
Empty bed and parking lot,
This is what I worked for
And this is what I get
This is what I lived for
And no one gave a shit
A contest entry
- Write something decent by Clockwork.
375 points, ended January 3, 2008, 36 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
