A twisted poem about being part of the scenery in life and in death. |
-Part of The Scenery- by Keaton Foster Red Green Blue True The color of my eyes The color of my blood The color of these trees Silent witnesses they seem Standing there Without a single care Lacking all judgment Just part of the scenery Just like me Unnoticeable Until they are gone An afterthought A seemingly avoidable What not A home for some A shade for others A giver of life for everything alive A byproduct that we assume is for us Assumption is life’s bitch Hanging here Oh’ God This branch will not break It will not bend I must live and now die With my choice I took the risk I was sure that I might fail Never confident That I might actually succeed Soon, like these trees I will be part of the scenery Soon I will be dead Hung to the end The knot was crafted by me The rope was strung by me Tied ever so tight By these steady hands But I can assure you That it was not I Who forced me to this place Others much crueler than me Are without question, responsible The weight of who I have become Was not enough to snap my neck I have always been meant to suffer I have always been meant to feel it all But at least as I do I have this amazing view This colorful panoramic Of undeniable truth… Part of The Scenery Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2013 |