Disappointment Poem by The Poet Darkling

Herein lies the bitter story of me,
A tale of hurt and woe
Of a girl born already heartbroken
And drunk on a cheap Bordeaux

The ink with which I write is indelible
A mixture of blood and tears
I'm manufacturing memories of love
And incongruous affairs

Each verse I've written is filled with sedition
Salaciously choking me
I am a day late and a dollar short
and bit too bourgeoisie

Bet everything on a toss of the dice
Just for his molasses kiss
I gambled and I lost, I paid the price
I accept my part in this

I'm left with nothing but disappointment
After all is said and done
I feel as if I'm just an afterthought
In a game that can't be won

I have always been brave and chanced going
Where others would dare not go
To satisfy my inquisitive mind
And my desire to know

Never thought I'd find that I've lost my mind
Or he, all het up for love
It is so strange living in my own skin…
T'was 'sposed to fit like a glove?

No matter how hard I fight, I can't right
All the wrongs been done to me
So instead of struggling against the tide
I mourn for what couldn't be

Thus, that's the manner of disappointment
It is not it's aim to please
It will first grab you up by your short
hairs
Then leave you upon your knees