Mystify the mind of the
blonde-haired beauty spitting cash
sitting in the satin car
drowning hell wherever she goes
she talks to trees and pets them gently
wouldn’t she just love to take them home
because there isn’t ever a soul there
she isn’t the thin girl
with diamond eyes anymore
could she try to belong anyway?
Standing up with the winter air
you felt so long ago
as you played records alone
in your room
on that second floor you sang to your sister
when she had no promise of sleep
you can see her flutter still
but her faith is cut away
like a string of paper dolls
turned into dust
could you try to belong anyway?
Letters crumpled
in the trash bin
by the desk
that were meant for your friend in rehab
she has morphed
with the toxicity
to emulate a foreign thing
or a local thing
a thing without an accent
a nameless beauty
living in the hands of
sticks and stripes
could she try to belong anyway?
A broken smile escapes
a quiet man’s lips
as he realized he is no longer meant
for the nature of music
this road was meant
for a settled station, a non-moving train
he wondered what it would be like
to be quoted
his sun set long ago
before the night even began
the man searches for sympathy
in the eyes of chosen ones
could he try to belong anyway?
Why is it the others who decides what we do?
a little boy wonders one day
while walking in the park
donning a jacket he does not like
he feels an anticipation
parlayed by a
sort of nervous tick
he can’t control
and only with music
can the boy ever feel alive
in the sea of rules
could he try to belong anyway?
jessconkwright.com 