Talk, they say. But talk to who?
I cannot talk and neither can you.
Talk is cheap. Feelings are fleeting.
Day after day, the same day repeating.
Where does it end and with who?
I want to be happy, really I do.
But like the sadness, happiness passes.
I'm so alone amid the masses.
If you could take what's in my head.
Read it aloud, spare me the dread.
I'll let it be said, loud and clear.
All of them listen but none can hear.
It penetrates me, this life on the surface.
But does any of it really suffice?
Could someone dig deeper and see what I see.
I just want to love and have someone love me.
I write it down in shoddy verse.
It's not perfect, but it could always be worse.
