Tammy Armstrong | + Follow Poet |
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Time Well Spent

My thoughts, not like what can be written on paper -
A paper so thin that you can see through,
onion paper, yes,
are not worth citing still,
they are just empty words, like yours
or others that resemble someone like you.
No need to feel "oh, so insulting"
just think on matters more convincing -
like the matters of retirement,
or ending some beloved engagement,
where of course, you and I mattered not
enough to be heard by someone just like us,
where tears are waters enough to fill
all the wells in Yorkshire, or the seven seas.
So what exactly are my thoughts, as if they spoke of 
volumes or of super heroes
that would revive the emptiness that is living.
Refuse me, please, you have your own
decisions and contentions to displace,
but all the words we speak are
windows to the human race.
Even yours.
So though you fret in lonely silence now
alone with laptop gleaming,
or sitting in a library while
someone more important breathes behind you
for her turn -
Remember, we are all sitting in front of some
media-bleeding device, be it our mouths, our radios
laptops, or campfires.
Think on what I've said here in deep reflection,
if you think your own thoughts are important enough
to prove that mine are as well.
What do you think, when alone with your thoughts ~
Are they real?
Or do they speak the level-headed cruelties of
politicians and spokespeople for some soft-drink?
Truly, I say to you all ~
Breathe in.

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