Let me be clear
I understand very little
Least of all the people closest to me
But as I babble about my day
Their fleeting feelings interrupt my stories
The curl of a lip when my joke fall flat
The glazing of their eyes when my tale runs on
Are crashing cymbals
A constant beeping
I avert my gaze to drown out
My grimace of pain
The silence that stretches too long
Are mere pebbles hurled into a natural canyon
Leaving it unaffected
With no expectation of change
Even from me
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
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