A tissue's lament
Once a perfect soft white sheet
Now a crumpled smelly rag
Once a song on a serene windchime
Now a broken chord in a backroom bar
Once innocent wrapped up in my pure white bed
And sheets of a hundred others
On which I rested my angelic head
Hopes smashed
Dreams of serviette fame defeated
Now blown away
Under a barrage of vulgar sneezes
No gentle soft lips to tap and pamper after meals
Only rough hands that grab
With old food long congealed
My hope for better things shattered, scattered torn
My dreams of being a 'Hollywood handkerchief flattened
Alas! never born
Only a snotty nostril symphony plays for me
In inharmonious keys
Once used up, scrunched up, and forgotten,
But still I dream of better things,
If only I' been made from cotton!
yvette smith
poem by Yvette Smith
Added by Poetry Lover
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