People ask me
“Why do you keep all to yourself?
One day we will find you all dried up
And we will sing the the last hymn”
There is a lot I want to talk about with people
There is more worth a roundtable
Yet the jack lighting is a turn off
That’s why I keep everything within
I find people are not worth a belief
One moment you share your story with them
The next day you will hear it on the market place
All yours a dirty dumped public linen
A story shared is half solved, they said
I find that as a illusion nowadays
With all these chameleon colours radiating around
And the back stabbing that has become a new norm.