Casual Truth
Lost
In a way
I used to dream of being.
Stuck
Saying things
That you won't understand,
Just so that I can say something,
Without admitting
That I'm bending to you.
Just to protect my precious notion
That I know myself better
Than you do.
Even though I really do.
I find it rather crippling.
Though in the past I idolized
The people who people listened to.
And now you've put me on the spot,
And you're waiting
For me
To answer.
I could escape.
And I could be free.
And you'd never listen again.
If I really wanted to do that.
So,
Do I?
The End
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
Casual Truth, which
was posted on Oct 30, 2009 by
Rac7hel.
This is a collaborative poem.
Some rights reserved.
This poem is filed under:
Character, Free Verse
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