I write my poems for me not you
I write them when I'm sad and blue...

I have something important to ask of you
Please just listen-not say or do...

You think that I am an ignorant child
So young and unaware-so very wild...

She walks with one hand rested on her hip
She sways as she puts the bottle to her lips...

Sweet sarcasm rumbling through the halls
Of empty rooms with empty tapestries...

Here I am in the quiet sky
Falling, dreaming I can fly...

White noise
in a crowded room...

I'm living in isolation
Banned from negotiation...

There are words that need speaking
They rest on the tip of my tongue...

Grey smoke billowing in the whispering breeze
Pine needles twittering in the great pine trees...

Days change, months pass, memories fade
Mountains crumble, visions clash, skies tumble...

Beat me again
What is my sin...