Thursday, January 17, 2008

For Sale

There is a sadness in me, not of grief
A haunting emptiness, with no relief
Kerfuffled thoughts, messy baggage
Not clear, regular problems that's easier to manage .
Don't want to talk and make it a conversational piece
It won't help make peace
I could cry my worries away
but still find no reason, to wake up day after dismal day.

I don't matter to that man sitting on the chair
Or that woman, combing her long, silky hair.
If I snatched her comb away, and poured my heart out
I know she wouldn't care.

The once brightly lit spaces of my heart
have reduced to dark, sullen corners.
It's up for sale, but has no takers.

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