Monday, February 21, 2011


Each is born with a trait,
Some nurture it, promoting growth,
Others do not water it, and waste the gift God gave to them,
I do neither, yet the trait remains the same,

I understand definitions,
But the meaning, the emotions,
I must pretend and watch, then follow others, silently in tow,

 Incoherency is all I hear,
As you whisper to my ear,
Others certainly would be seduced,
Instead I must ask what you spoke,

The majority of the who am I, doesn’t bother me,
The coldness seems to act as a guardian or a shield,
If others sentiments are interpreted as they were meant,
But without feelings, I am left unknowing,
And sadness if I could hold, its voice would unfold in such a scene,
You are here, and so am I, dote you do, oh so lovingly,
But then I catch an odd notion from your eyes,
As they understand this endearing tenderness
Means nothing to me

No comments:

Post a Comment