you say that you can teach me.
But I refuse to hear the lessons
no heart deserves to know,
and not every heart is ever shown.
Time flies and you have no hold;
it hurts to watch life, love, and passion
just become memories on pages that you'll turn and fold.
Am I the only one that absorbs pain?
Even faceless strangers, people I don't know their names.
Then I visualize, experience, and dream tragic scenes.
These scenes are alive in reality;
no matter how distant or vague.
My depression;
a brief satirization
of society's illness;
their failure to have indiscretion
for human interaction
or fellow emotions.
Multiplying pain echoes in my brain
challenging any attempt to stay peaceful and sane.
No one will recognize me once I re-build the show;
re-painting facades that always just knew how to grow.
As familiar faces, into the river, they flow.
Learning
the closer one once was, the farther they may have to go
before you can let go; a process that sets in way too slow.
No matter how long you've known.
No matter how much you know:
It's like a performance
and you can't shorten it;
there are no doors for you to leave
and your teased;
as you get to watch all the actors come and go.
Ebb and flow;
they move out into the ocean "of growth"
but what about the souls they leave behind;
the ones that have spent more than enough time
being alone?
Well they think they know
and I think I know;
But no one knows, no one knows
how to show the love that grows and grows.
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