Bable

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
There is a lot of us talking. Is anyone listening?

Submitted: July 26, 2009

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Submitted: July 26, 2009

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You don't see me the way that I see you.
You only tell me where I've gone wrong.
To tell the truth you’d never believe me.
So I sit, and write my songs.
 
Can this be the Tower of Babel
or another hell long forgotten?
Can this be the depth of our madness
or has the path turned rotten?
 
We live our lives separate but evil.
And tell ourselves never ending lies.
Much too proud to admit to our blindness.
A dying ember behind our eyes.
 
Have the gods abandoned us?
Is this the setting sun?
How can we ever walk in peace,
when all we do is run?


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