And I just sit here
typing at my computer
Never teaching the outside world
Never reaching the outside world
Unable to communicate
but easy to speak
I speak my mind
and no one ever listens
I’m sick of being here
being alone and cold
unnoticed
but loved
None the less
I try to tell them
whatever they want to hear
I try not to fear
all the crowds of people
walking my way
saying what’s new
and what’s cool
They see what I let them
only what they want to see
But they never knew me
the real me is to terrifying
too scared to live
alone and cold
Never teaching the outside world
unable to reach the outside world
But I’m here
And you listen to an old story
told over once before
By a man who we knew
a woman never seen
maybe even a child
blind to the cruelties of society
deaf to the lies
but maybe I am that child
Once again,
I feel the hate of the world
the love and envy
Nothing new
but everything to you
It’s the story your mother told
bedtime and story-time
growing up listening
trying to catch something new
a new little catch
never revealed before
It’s the story your lover told
bleeding and sick
unable to comprehend
the vast deepness
of the story-teller’s soul
But you’d have to be a child
to hear the silent screams
echoing in your head
the ramblings
of an old witch
never once making you twitch
haunting your nightmares
your dreams are too sacred
hollow and empty
unfulfilled by your life
and mine
So, search no more
my dear little one
I am here to tell you no more
and no less
than the truth of the world
mumble to me
what you hear
Whisper in my ear
and then runaway in fear
fore, you don’t know the half