Of course, I'll pick up the phone.
Just to listen.
From time to time with our eyes locked.
Of course, I'll steer endlessly through your despair.
While I listen.
When I'm no longer needed by you to listen.
It's my feelings and opinions that I want you to hear.
Your hurt and the pain overwhelms you.
If only you could try to find time to consider whether or not I am fine.
Picking up the phone only when grief fills the air.
In their mind, there's the fear of pain.
To face Alone.
Why not confide in me?
I'm here to listen.
when consumed by thoughts of consecutive circles spinning round and round.
You know where I'll be found.
That's when you pick up the phone.
That's when I'm here to listen.
Outspoken once. I should have listened instead.
To chime in with comments and concerns.
When will I learn?
They do not listen to the words spoken.
Misunderstood all the pure honest words I find for them.
Finding darkness to cover my light that was meant to shine for you.
So I overcome this hopeless attempt at the disparity.
Only to cling to the lusterless clarity of your voice.
I'm here listening.
This is fine, I've found what I needed to overcome my tragedy.
I've found a place where the bells only ring once.
there is no frustrating wait.
There is always someone there to listen.
Anonymously I face strangers.
I tell them with words of sincerity that I am not fine.
There is no danger.
There is no voice.
There is no other choice.
For my sanity, I do not mind writing that I am not fine.

When I'm hurting again.
This is what I see before me.
I'll TTYL.
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