Passion In Asking

Time to write a thought & send it to the outside world

Pretend I’m listened to, pretend I’m heard.

But inside this little old cave, I’m freezing and I’m dying slow,

Not that anyone cares, not that they even know.

It seems to me that I should stand aside

& hope that darkness takes over, my own landside

One that crumbles my worries & dissipates my fears

But then that has never happened for all these years

You scream at me to tell the world what i really think

& yet i’m that ill, that i sway on death’s brink.

If you were a friend, would you hold me close?

If you were my father, would you top the dose?

& in my dreams, were you a love that I knew so well

Would you be the one to whom my secret I sell?

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