They threw me to the rubbish heap
Like an old and holey worn boot
(I feel so discarded and cheap)
Just because I no longer suit
My crime is I am a cliché
I am used to make known the truth
But they say I am now passé
I am no longer in my youth
Yes, that was when they adored me
And when my truth was meaningful
That was when people would agree
I could be true and beautiful
Now I am unloved and homeless
And people do not seek me out
I feel depressed and so worthless
What is a cliché’s life about?
Surely it is to tell the truth
And I can do that very well
Beautifully like sweet vermouth
Creates a magic drunken spell
They have thrown me on to the heap
Because they have overused me
So I will just lie here and sleep
With all the unwanted debris
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
good writing, I like it, thanks.