The Collector

THE COLLECTOR – Written by Carroll Bryant

 

She collects poetry about broken love
She collects poetry
Because she’s afraid to touch
She will spend her life
With men who will forget her name
She will spend her life
Running like a rabbit in the rain

A woman
A child
A rose with intentional thorns
A bull with horns
A clown to be adored

She collects poetry at the expense of love
She collects poetry
Too much is not enough
She screams for something real
In a world that is so fake
Her dreams are leaves on the ground
Poetry is her rake

A woman
A child
A nightmare with no end
A vision inside an illusion
A shadow without a friend

She collects poetry like trophies on the wall
She collects poetry
Because she’s afraid to fall
She will spend her life chasing rainbows
Only to paint them black
She will spend her life afraid
Afraid of the facts

A woman
A child
A song that can’t be sung
A misconstrued wanderer
A virus inside your lungs

She collects poetry
And that’s what pisses me off
She collects poetry
Her poetry collects dust

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