The year, the year, the year gets dark.
Soundless fury, toneless fear, blackness so stark
closing your eyes against it only makes it brighter.
Everything counsels patience, waiting, slowness.
If I sit any more still I will go backwards.
If you had a clue what I think -
If you ever asked how I felt -
If it wasn't all about you -
Maybe there would be me.
Instead, every day is a new misadventure.
I don't tell you anything, I keep myself
in the cage that keeps you safe from me.
Originally posted on Dreamwidth as http://netpositive.dreamwidth.org/75804.html . Do comment either hither or yon, as you see fit.