A whisper of the rage that burns inside.
No font can show the longing, no bold face type convey the scream I hold back.
All I have is these words, and this need.
Can you read?
Do you see?
Can you see me in this pitiful poetry?
Yes, I am lonely, I will admit to that much.
And these words are my crutch that keeps me going each day.
My little way to siphon off some of the commotion that builds up inside
...and haunts me at night when the sheets by my side are empty.
But pity me not.
That does me no good,
and not want I want anyway.
Just please read my words,
and believe they're for you,
and hold in your heart what I say.
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