Quickspark Poem by Donna Dolorical

A trickle
A chuckle
Am I laughing?
Am I crying?
Over something
That's got nothing
To do with me
It's ridiculously
Absurd, even futile
And at the same time
It makes perfect sense to me
Yes, I know, isn't it crazy?
But, hey, mind your own boat
I've got mine to float
And I choose to ride
The melancholy tide
Of the river that ends
Where dust with life blends
Where time holds still
Where walls keep vigil
To stretch the siren wail
Across the decades' swell
Because damned if it isn't
One hell of a wail
We tend to keep missing
The sound of a crime
Generations keep repeating
Sure I know it gets confusing
When Life keeps imitating
Art, keeps imitating
Life, sometimes it's blinding
Is it still a human being
Or a dog-biscuit mannequin
That's gracing the screen?
And you know, I guess
One can only brandish
So much gift and beauty
Beyond which quantity
Comes the point of insanity
Where all the awe, the admiration
The sighs, never-ending questions
Will shove the Art to self-destruction
And all because those who get touched
Just have to have more than a touch
And so they rub, pinch, tear away, and crush
They bleed the light out of the brightest
Bleed the life out of the fledgling finest
Till what's fine and what's bright
End up burning out the quickest