When I eat, when I drink,
as I go to bed, pretty much on the brink,
and then as I wake up – hoping that I never did,
for sometimes, I wish someone put the lid
on my life and shut it, forever.
Work I do for what else is there?
Life, I live for death isn’t fair
We strive, if only to stay up and stare,
at the roof on lonely nights,
bereft of all meaning the mind is caught in a blight
And if there was ever anything that I wanted,
more than my own less than precious life
is to get over this inner strife
of forever searching, seeking, struggling
for that one look of kindness.
And when I don’t find it, the eyes fill with non-existent tears,
yet only I may know all the fear,
of living with you, yet being without you,
so much that my soul this feeling may sear.
As days go by, I look back into the moments that were but few,
all I hear myself ask, is where are you?