Left on a leash Is no way to live He disappeared I like to imagine He’s running in a field
The passive-aggressive Guilt trip Is a weak tool For your purpose The sensitive
My objective is selfish Not to share or be heard To get it out and move on No one seems to hear my pain No one seems to feel my pain
To be a true artist Must they be recluses Crazy mad or sick Or even better dead Show me a healthy artist
Apathy and incompetence In healthcare A fax they didn’t send Prescriptions delayed Labs to do again
Yo te amo Tres palabras Que solucionen todo Para la mujer Tan complicada
I wallow in my sadness As it pools up It has not swallowed me Who floats above its surface This surface
She is no longer Part of my life I’ve moved on My life is full With friends
Strong hands Hold me down To the bed I say to them I have to go
Antisocial tendencies Amplified by sickness I can people watch Yet I can’t people talk I am lonely
I am unique In so many ways But while variety excites What we look for Is our common thread
When the emotion comes up It feels like heartburn Like acid Clenching my throat My ears go watery
No hay nada más sincero Que un regalo Inesperado Una carta Un chocolate
Turkey and dressing Loud and overwhelming Opinions and food fly Green bean casserole Too much laughter
Most women are cooks But a man who cooks Is a chef She cooks over and over To feed the masses