This is not a Poem
I don’t write anymore
But I’m nearly there
Getting lost again
In the whispers game
If I ask is everything okay
Is only because I care
Sarcasm’s a wall
I cannot climb
And I’m going to shut down
Because I’m afraid
I can’t understand
Anything you say
‘Cause In my head already
rings a station bell
In my dreams
White mice nibbling away…
Hold my hand
Stay
Stupid words
That’s not what I wanted to say
And so I’ll stay
Waiting for Spring
Like the little lamb
It’s not a poem
But maybe it’s what you wanted
Me to write.
