She writes another poem
And sticks it on her door
But still no one will notice her
Any less or any more.

And on the walls her paintings
Of naked screaming women,
And still they walk in
Simply open the curtains.

She’ll paint her fingertips black
Watch her lips follow
And then in the dark
All that can be seen is her sorrow.

(But no one’s there to see)

She’ll write another chapter
About where her life went wrong
“Nothing will ever come out of this,
Get a job, stop writing songs”

And then one day perhaps they’ll read
The poems that she writes
Perhaps they’ll see those screaming girls
And her black lips in the night

Perhaps one day as she sleeps
Dreaming about where she went wrong
They’ll put on the radio and hear her sing
“What a beautiful song…”