Nobody knows Where the Grim Reaper goes But the Grim Reaper feels quite alone. You see, nobody likes him Everyone fears him For doing the job he has to do The blue skies and the hot guys Are things he enjoys too But, in the end he does what he has to do Deep below, the depressing black Only lets his mind get filled with crap He has no one but his skin and bones. Alone, and so cold.
Biography: Well. Hi. I’m Dez, and I write crappy poems. My view on poems are the same as almost anything in life: be honest and sloppy. Because of this, a lot of my poems are about my emotions, including “Nobody,” and “Self Deprecating Title #27.,” but if you are reading this, you’re probably only gonna read one, “Nobody.” This poem is about whatever the hell you interpret it as, but this is originally written simply to be about my own loneliness while everyone is around. That’s why I used the grim reaper as the symbol; he’s around thousands (Albeit, dead) people everyday, and everyone is scared of him. What a miserable existence.
The “fear” shows up in my life as simply not sharing many interests with people at ECA. I ain’t all that smart, either; I just work relatively hard.
Art is meant to give the reader, viewer, or whatever else, their own understanding of a piece that resonates with them.