I slip through the cracks, hide behind walls, and you think I am gone forever. You don't see me as I am, unexpected I'd say it now is that that might ever occur. Alas, I send messages telepathically whether you ever receive them or not. They are out there. It isn't my error if you fail to know what you have, what exists. Wait until you awake from some coma of dreaming I shall not, for I expect you to never emerge. You are consumed, with all that you are, little is reserved for beyond your precious bubble.
Forget me not, I think, knowing it has already come to pass. I have to battle further than my heart allows, perhaps I can only attain it from the sleeping organ. As long as you are okay, don't spare a thought. Those without water, those without paradise, without food and love, those with disease, well, they would probably pine a moment of your attention, to acknowledge they breathe, perhaps then we would all be free. We might help somebody, though it isn't necessary, and in that find the answers. I don't need much, but you created a mountain out of a molehill of me.
Goodbye, for now, for now, goodbye.
No comments:
Post a Comment