You know I am always thinking—
You are quite popular, you know.
They wish me that you are well,
except stage actors, those bastards.
Are you well? Really, are you? You seem used,
never getting a break unless
you take a step away.
Well, if you do, then you are—in name—abused.
You are squeezed out of talismans
by almost every breathing man.
The child dashes after rainbows.
We sit in the meadow for hours on end
until we find your fabled clover. Some of us
It’s for the best you hide,
or you would never survive.
But he finds you in his game of cat and mouse.
And shakes the die until you feel like you’ve died.
I know life is hard when you never really get to pass.
I know you are still there, I just can’t seem to see you through
I’m here to help you...answer me!!
I’m wishing you’ll do me a favor in return in
my time of grief to muffle my flaws.
Luckily, this is the last time.