Where do I,
Where do we,
How does it
I want to talk to someone,
to have someone close,
because I feel Like an empty bottle,
exactly in the middle of the oceans combined.
Even you cannot comfort me,
you never do, except when I dream/
I feel the others brushing pass me,
as if I am,
just the air, that my sign is under.
I can't trust you,
You can't trust me.
So I've got to trust you,
then you start to feel weird,
then I start to feel bad,
then we leave it,
then I confused...
And once again stranded, with no hope,
but to find the answer on my own.
© Copyright 2016 Stephen Fatewright. All rights reserved.
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