I doubt you'll write this poem for me
Since I so rarely get
The things I set my heart upon,
The things I might regret.
So little do I now expect,
So little hope or fear,
I draw a circle round myself
And find my pleasure there.
I do not like my friends, nor do I
Think that they like me.
Their words are hard, like jagged rocks,
Their treacherous eyes like scree.
Alone I read, I dream, I like
My music loud, I wait
For something that will never come,
I fault my faultless fate.
I throw myself upon your will,
Yet know you will not say
The words that show me to myself
And burn my heart away.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.
Video Music: The Valley. By Jahzzar. Performed by Jahzzar
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