Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Laying in the bed that she made all alone – A Poem For Gabbie Hanna

Applause is not instant,

and to you, that is an insult.

The damsel who demands attention but does nothing to keep it,

nailing names to the bottom of expensive shoes and trampling through mud,

just to make sure that you stay relevant.

Oh,

wayward winter child,

it’s all such a hardship,

isn’t it?

Lost in Los Angeles,

praying that you’ll stay on people’s minds,

taking it so personally that nobody takes you seriously,

and it’s all so hard,

and we are all so manipulative and money hungry!

I am not unempathetic,

but darling,

it’s pathetic to pretend that you deserve praise for putting your soul in peril and being vulnerable.

To be alive is to be vulnerable,

half the kids you baited and switched,

convinced to buy a piece of your soul,

are vulnerable,

and they came away with nothing to say about “Relative” and “Filler”

because what was there to fill the air with?

What conversation could be had?

If you didn’t want them discussed,

you should have left them locked up in your head, but instead,

of course,

you pour over reviews and comments,

raining with rage at the disrespect of dissent from your once loyal pay pigs.

Applause is not instant,

and to you, that is an insult,

because you never stopped to think that the hands that clap are connected to real people.