Needle

The needle scratches against the record
Almost like a tormented screech
The parents whisper that I have nothing left to learn
So, I guess I'll begin to teach
Although this isn't the life I wanted
It is the only one I could reach

The needle scratches the skin
Which makes a popping noise
The friends scream for me to listen
So, I guess I have no choice
I perk up my ears waiting for their voice
to pretend like I care and maybe rejoice

The pine needle falls from the tree
Without a single sound
I run with my dangerous ways
hearing my feet pound
I know what they all want to hear - that I'm happy-
I guess that's why they're always around

The record may screech
It never stops to a direct hault
As the skins gives way
the needle rests in the vein's  vault
Your friend's fingers try to stop it
But their touch might as well be salt

I am a simple pine needle fallen from it's tree
It's soothing to know that I am content
but these uncomforting thoughts won't let me be
I am not upset and I am not angry
I am not hurt and I am not unhappy
I just would like a few people 
to able to see what I see
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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