I dance when no one is
looking, a dance of sorrow,
Head held low hands to the
bright harvest moon.
No joy, to dance in glee.
just hopeless circles of
a life passed by and a
moment forgotten.
I write when no one is
reading, words of truth,
believed to be words of
some hellish fiction.
No lies or fables to be
told when, the skin still
bears the scars of her
own begotten torment.
I sing when there isn't
a soul to listen, The only
way out of a path beaten
by whip and fists of anger.
A waste to share this burden
when no one is there to share.
you take from this well when
it has been empty for years.
And it hurts, more then the
moment when the flesh was
opened at the surface, more
then the moment her love failed.
I envy not the gentle touch it
is a lie that will pass with the
angry moment, where control
is lost, and then dismissed.
I long no more for that love,
That to will seep through empty
fingers and only rise in pain.
lies from which I cringe.
The terror played over and over
years after she has forgotten.
after the apologies spilled forth
from an empty beer can, crushed.
The worthless child, still that, and
she places her anger in the mind
of one who still could have loved.
one who still could have been, Happy.
So I cry when no one listens, and
in the night, I wonder why this pain
won't go away, why it haunts me.
but no one hears, because no one listens.
