How can I be the me you see?

Hope may spring eternal,

But I’m stuck in the desert,

Tapped of anything resembling a promise,

Of  a tomorrow.

So where can I head,

That might deliver me an answer,

To my axiomatic thirst,

For satisfaction in the form of liquid courage?

You won’t answer,

( you never answer)

Yet I still voice my concerns,

In the form of pithy jokes,

Lingering in silence,

Absent of laughter,

Because I’m stuck on this road alone.

You didn’t abandon me,

When I left you to fend for yourself,

Against the shadows of my former selves,

Even though you aren’t here,

To hear my apology,

Visceral and borrowed,

From a more penitent person,

Than I will ever find the hope to be.

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