If only would
my poems talk back,
Respond to
all the secrets, I have told them…
If only
they’d share with me their thoughts
And reason
why am I so lonely…
If only
would my poems talk back,
Shouted in
my face their deemed opinion,
Crush at
once my hopes and dream
With sticky
fingers from the whitened sheets…
If only
would my poems talk back,
Told me
that there’s no redemption,
Blindfolded
lead me to the edge of reason
And forsake
me there to roam insane…
If only
would my poems talk back,
Them I
would’ve never been so hopeless
For there
would’ve been so much of them
That I would’ve never had to
walk alone.
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