-----------Just--------------
         how
     good
    does
        a poem
                  have to be
                                 to be on Front page ?                       
                                                                ­    ?
                                                           ­          ?
                                                               ­       ?
                                                               ­         ?
                                                             ­             ?
                                                             ­                ?
                                                               ­                 ?
                                              ­                                       ?
                        ­                                                                 ­  ?
                                                             ­                                   ?
                            ­                                                                 ­        ?
                                                               ­      (I'm asking for a friend)

Run, the voices are encircling
Hide, all the lights are fading
A siren, across the sky deafening
Come back ! Don't leave me
My life is not over yet, please
The clank of knives touching each other
Thousands, cleansing us, the defilement
Come back ! Don't leave me
Run, we deserve our degrading life
Help ! Papa ! Mama ! Don't leave me
You are not worthy, not deserving
So die quickly, end our suffering
Run, father, the voices are encircling
Hide, mother, all the lights are fading

The words that you say
Burn into my heart
The meanings I portray
Break me apart
Exposing the pieces of me
I’d rather no one see
But when you tell me its OK
That I’ll be just fine
All I want
Is to call you mine
Because you understand
You don’t judge me
All that you see
Is the beauty within me

It’s an instinctive unease
A lone typewriter sits in neglect
The dust settles into the keys

Everything in the room seemed to freeze
Lost to time in a state of disconnect
It’s an instinctive unease

The lever not set to release
Leaving the platen a dented wreck
The dust settles into the keys

The air hangs stagnant, not so much as a breeze
Leaving the room stale and depressed
It’s an instinctive unease

Some long forgotten face left these
Unused ribbons of ink and stacks of papers forever unchecked
The dust settles into the keys

A scrapped song begging for a reprise
Or a manuscript destined for reject
It’s an instinctive unease
The dust settles into the keys

Not that I was born for you
I'm certain
And you don't say
But in the end, move further away
And we two ships pass in the night
Unseen to each
And if I could have been made beautiful as you, I would have
I would give all my long nights
And all the me there is to give
To be the sun just slowly falling
On the softness of your face