deepundergroundpoetry.com
I died six months ago.
Nobody ever understands.
There is always this disconnect, ringing in my ears.
Am I really that hard to relate with?
And why will none of you allow me to live this down?
With your eyes, I see what you really say.
They tell me I'm soap, here to clean you.
You're built up, at the expense of breaking me down.
And you have the nerve to tell me everything's fine.
Despite six months ago, there is always a lesson to be learned.
I'm going back to my hidden place to be born again.
There is always this disconnect, ringing in my ears.
Am I really that hard to relate with?
And why will none of you allow me to live this down?
With your eyes, I see what you really say.
They tell me I'm soap, here to clean you.
You're built up, at the expense of breaking me down.
And you have the nerve to tell me everything's fine.
Despite six months ago, there is always a lesson to be learned.
I'm going back to my hidden place to be born again.
Published 4th Jul 2012
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