I’m Writing for Myself Who Cares if Anybody Reads This A Poet’s Lament
I’m back writing again for myself,
I’m looking for another to join in my cell,
To suffer alone is not dignified I am not well,
To share the pain is more qualified
Lord, send me not back here after I die
To be born is not worse than to die
I’m shuffling on the spot after the music
Has stopped where do I get off?
Why is it so impossible to connect
With another why is it so much work?
It used to be so easy
Now isolation is the reason
We all turn to the net only to be trapped
In its netting... if life is an illusion
Why is the pain so real
I just want some time not to feel
Can you help me lighten my load
Or are you just in it for the gold
If God is closer to the non-physical
I’m ready to receive Him into His bosom
To be born again spiritually & leave this Earthly prison
What am I supposed to do now,
Counting the days like little children
Pulling off flower petals
In spring—the season I love
Paired with summer
Oh to live carefree!
In summer is like heaven above...
people don’t read Pope anymore
So they wan’t read me either
I could write until eternity & a day
But no one would read it
To save my own soul
I’ll finish with optimism as a dish
Wouldn’t it be grand to get lost in strawberry fields
While eating ice-cream & swimming in the cream delish.
