Russell Crow

Silver Star - 3,325 Points (May 25th,1995)

Days That Drag On And On - Poem by Russell Crow

Days like these...the days that drag on and on
If only it was quiet everywhere
if only it were quiet inside my head
Too bad, so sad
this carefully orchestrated area of noise
is just part of the elements that could transform
someone of sound mind into a twisted hermit
subject to tyranny of an adolescent mind
more or less messed up
as the adolescent carries an invisible shield
hoping to be visible with it then fall from sight
Days like these
days that tend to drag on and on
allows me to wonder, allows me to ponder
the point of this institute, this foundation, this building
a seven hour daycare from morning to afternoon
watched and guarded; taught but meant to listen
not to be heard
Apparently, it's supposed to be a deterrent from a life of crime
only the problem is
it's just a basic preparation for the type of situation
yet it's relevance is in question
since it matters not
What really digs under my skin so deep, so deep
is I've made it through 11 years through this vicious cycle
I have one more year to fight through
but I vote against it
I protest it
I'd rather call it quits
than to endure a horrible year again
but I don't have a say in my safety, my own desires
I'm not of age of such freedoms
so I just sit back and play poker with the cards karma dealt
What bugs me the most, what irritates me the most
the part that hurts the most:
All these years, it was social interaction amongst my peers
said to be of great importance, top priority
but what was the point in forming bonds
deep, irreplaceable bonds
if all the people I've seen
if all the people I've spoken to
if all the people I've labeled friends
I may never see again...
and it kills me to think
most people wouldn't blink an eye
most people wouldn't think twice
the pedestrians of people wouldn't care at all
It's an entirely different story in my eyes
it's an entirely different story reading from my countenance
the order of everything, the order of how these things are utterly wrong
at least from the viewpoint of where I stand
The shade that hides me
cuts off my voice, my motives
and I'm left unheard, unsound, voiceless
the only word from my lips
I'd gladly tattoo upon my chest
I'm the only one
because of the elements of this world
hinders the elements of myself
so I crash again in unattainable combustion
the fire extinguisher of my composed friends
plus this pen and pad
permits me from rendering to ash
and then who would I ask to...
promise me, promise me
to remember me, remember me
The shade that would hide me would only blind me
Days like these
the days that drag on and on and on
allow me to wonder, allow me to ponder
the point of this institute, this foundation, this building
A seven hour daycare? A fortress without bars?
The shade that hides my presence
just makes me a face in the crowd
a bon-fire waiting to combust
though my fire extinguisher of my own design
keeps the fuel and oxygen out of the heat
Will I be able to keep them around forever
or will I never see them again
I'd withdraw into my sanctum
a cliffside overlooking a view for miles
because withdrawn is the air when the wind fails to blow
So if there's just an empty space
occupying the empty presence
of the ghosts that plays within my memories
Who would promise me, promise me

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Poem Edited: Wednesday, August 14, 2013

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