Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Reflecting
3 ReviewsA poem I wrote from Ray's point of view about his life. It's kind of sad. Not too long, though, so R&R would be pretty awesome.
Reflecting
My dad repeated the words: “Amy! Amy!”, but she just stared into that abyss.
I didn’t say anything when she fell over.
I didn’t say anything on the way to the hospital.
I didn’t say anything when the doctor spoke in that heartrending voice.
I didn’t say anything at her eulogy.
I didn’t say anything for the next year.
I didn’t say anything when dad shouted at me, “What the fuck is wrong with you? No respect for the dead? You’re an ungrateful boy. With all she did for you, yet you still won’t say anything for her?”
Lou stayed out late, playing jazz guitar in clubs.
Dad began to drink
Miles yelled at me, stole my medication, and sold it for more drugs.
I didn’t say anything.
Lou seemed to like the lifestyle of Ray Charles, the jazz musician.
Dad seemed to like the lifestyle Edgar Allen Poe, the poet.
Miles seemed to like to lifestyle of the man who yelled insane comments outside our block and over dosed every two weeks, being taken away by the ambulance.
I didn’t say anything.
Lou got famous, left us behind.
Dad now lies next to her, in the Arlington Cemetery.
Miles now lies next to dad.
As for me?
I’m in my own band, trying to forget the past. I smile in front of the cameras, am pleasant in interviews. I lie a lot.
I lie about having a mother and father happily waiting for me home.
I lie about being inspired by my brother, because I wasn’t.
I lie to everyone.
I lie to the band’s followers.
I lie to Lou, telling him I’m fine, when I’m really not.
I lied to Frank when I first met him, saying that I thought strolling in cemeteries wasn’t a strange way to spend a sunset, when it made my skin crawl and my bones cold.
I lied to Mikey when I first met him, saying that I loved sushi, when it made me pale to see.
I lied to Gerard when he was having a difficult time, saying that I was going to help him through his depression and that I was there for him, when I really wasn’t all there myself.
See?
I’m more than an accessory, a token for an “emo” band, a head of hair.
My dad repeated the words: “Amy! Amy!”, but she just stared into that abyss.
I didn’t say anything when she fell over.
I didn’t say anything on the way to the hospital.
I didn’t say anything when the doctor spoke in that heartrending voice.
I didn’t say anything at her eulogy.
I didn’t say anything for the next year.
I didn’t say anything when dad shouted at me, “What the fuck is wrong with you? No respect for the dead? You’re an ungrateful boy. With all she did for you, yet you still won’t say anything for her?”
Lou stayed out late, playing jazz guitar in clubs.
Dad began to drink
Miles yelled at me, stole my medication, and sold it for more drugs.
I didn’t say anything.
Lou seemed to like the lifestyle of Ray Charles, the jazz musician.
Dad seemed to like the lifestyle Edgar Allen Poe, the poet.
Miles seemed to like to lifestyle of the man who yelled insane comments outside our block and over dosed every two weeks, being taken away by the ambulance.
I didn’t say anything.
Lou got famous, left us behind.
Dad now lies next to her, in the Arlington Cemetery.
Miles now lies next to dad.
As for me?
I’m in my own band, trying to forget the past. I smile in front of the cameras, am pleasant in interviews. I lie a lot.
I lie about having a mother and father happily waiting for me home.
I lie about being inspired by my brother, because I wasn’t.
I lie to everyone.
I lie to the band’s followers.
I lie to Lou, telling him I’m fine, when I’m really not.
I lied to Frank when I first met him, saying that I thought strolling in cemeteries wasn’t a strange way to spend a sunset, when it made my skin crawl and my bones cold.
I lied to Mikey when I first met him, saying that I loved sushi, when it made me pale to see.
I lied to Gerard when he was having a difficult time, saying that I was going to help him through his depression and that I was there for him, when I really wasn’t all there myself.
See?
I’m more than an accessory, a token for an “emo” band, a head of hair.
Log in to rate and review this story