Playing Ignorant
Raw words,
etched deep to the page,
I make my mark deeply,
dragged from my gut,
to the surface,
but you notice not
the torn page,
the blotted ink,
turning a blind eye,
to my angst.
Playing ignorant
to my pain.
Ignoring my outstretched hand.
If I were drowning,
would you reach for my hand?
Well, let me tell you now,
I'm drowning.
Copyright © Ian Kilfoil | Year Posted 2011
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