the day is bright, outside the sun is shining,
the clouds are nowhere in sight,
so, why should I, be pining?
I'm pining because my love has fled,
inside, I feel an ache, dull and dead;
she left because I yelled her name,
in such a way, she thought I was insane.
but I'm meek and mild-mannered, like Clark Kent,
until I find, that all my money's spent;
until I discover that she has lied,
until I feel my brain has died.
she was a love that quickly stole my heart,
now she's a memory that tore my life apart;
a ghost that comes and goes with pain,
and things are never, quite the same again.
a specter of a song once heard,
that now seems foolish and absurd;
a melody that plays inside one's head,
when the outer shell of life is dead.
the day is bright, there's not a cloud in sight,
but I am fractured into pieces, not quite right;
because I lost a love, I thought would never die,
and I am left with the old age question...why?
Comments about this poem (Why? by dave lessard )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings