So wherein do they lie, those things too often unsaid?
Have they yet come true?
Or should they be left for dead?

Time will stumble by and death may come to call.
Don't invite him in.
Just let him wait out in the hall.

Back to those things that were always on your mind.
Bearing little fruit.
These thoughts when left behind.

I just don't see the reasoning for harboring such thoughts.
Tying up my dendrites.
Twisting them in knots.

I beg of you to speak your mind I see the beauty there.
Apathy be ******.
I for one do care.