In a constant lack of motion
but a reckless state of mind,
all you want is your seclusion
and a friend who's hard to find;
you've been looking through a window
at someone you never see,
never reaching for a reason
never thinking I'm just me.
As if you want to be alone.
Or just another skipping stone,
with someone who's better known.
In the hopeless life you're living,
there are friends who leave you cold,
it's a carousel you're riding,
and the song is getting old;
all the things you've held most dearly
come to nothing in the end,
and your search is overlooking
someone who's more than your friend.
Someone who'd be there when you cry.
Who'd never think of asking why,
who could help you learn to fly.
Living songs about confusion
like a puppet on a string,
one is pulled and your responding
is whatever pull should bring;
you will go in that direction
everyone says you should go,
and the person you are hiding
is someone you'll never know.
Out through the window; is your friend.
From your beginning, to your end,
who will give, but never lend.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown POET