So Close to No More
Sips of Crown,
sips of mixes;
flashes of anger,
flashes of sadness.
Scratching at a finger to feel,
scratching at a fate to flee;
listening to those seeking my thoughts,
listening to tunes swelling to tremors.
Minutes of sleep,
minutes of calm;
hours of unrest,
hours of clamor.
Feeling unlike the person they all knew,
feeling unlike the pillar they all need;
seeking the words of one alike ailing,
seeking the wisdom of one also afflicted.
Moments of joy solitary,
moments of smiling singular.
Times of strife regular,
times of frowning frequent.
Asking for answers few truly have,
asking for alleviation from the honored;
thanking them for time spent,
thanking them for their support.
Copyright © Andy Sprouse | Year Posted 2016