Cliche

I was born from a great one’s pen.
On a quiet night in the dim light.
From vast mind to blank page.
A momentary spark that lit a fire to burn for all time.
Cast of a powerful work that told of great love and loss.

I was read in magnificent halls and spoken in grand theaters.
Fell on the ears of great lords and spoken by the lips of fine ladies.
Putting smiles on their faces leaving marks in their hearts.
With time,
I passed through the minds of countless men, woman & children
of every race and creed.

It’s not my fault that they loved me,
loved me with so much fire.
Such fire that burned too hot and turned love to hate.

The great lords and fine ladies now shunned me.
Before I had touched their hearts,
but now I touch  only their stomachs and make them turn.

They gave me a name.
An ugly name.
A name given only to the outcasts of the page.
They called me cliche.

But its not my fault that they loved so much.
So please the next time you want to call me by that wicked name.
Remember that once, I was on the lips of kings and queens.
That I was once loved by all.
And although it’s not in love anymore.
In hate, I will linger & last for all time.

 

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