People write to me,
to tell me they care,
then, having written,
feel better.
For that is the amount,
of effort,
I'm worth,
a letter,
to tell me they care.
These letters,
they seem,
to help,
for a moment.
Then later,
they leave me,
for worse.
For all of the people,
who tell me,
they care,
not one,
will move off,
of their butt.
I am alone,
amidst all these fakers,
though surely,
they believe,
their own lies.
Though I'd like,
to scream,
at their faces,
"More actions, less words!"
I will not.
Their attempts,
though so feeble,
are all,
that I have,
and to lose them,
would leave me,
with naught.
So the next time I get,
a letter from one,
whose pretending,
their best,
to care.
I pray,
to my maker,
I find then the strength,
to leave it,
unanswered,
that's fair.
I haven't read all of your posts, much like my own, they take some time for one to meander through, however, I admire your honesty and writing capability immensley.
ReplyDeleteThank you.
ReplyDeleteI think honesty is one thing that every author has access to and is always beautiful when it is used (though not always easy to do).