Often what we observe on the outside is not what is going on inside.
Do you remember Joe, our neighbour to the right,
Who threw his dinner trays out into the night?
To litter his front door, but it meant so much more.
Talk about strange,
Talk about old,
Talk about saying goodbye.
I try hard to forget a buddy, boy – the man,
Who up and quit the fight, rather than take a stand.
Who traded joy for pain, his dignity for shame.
Talk about rage,
Talk about cold,
Talk about choosing to die.
Reading between the lines, sometimes more than I can bear.
Must I resort to tearing clothes and shouting in the air?
Talk about games,
Talk about living a lie!
She was a pretty girl, He was an easy take.
She knew he wasn’t right, but He believed in fate.
And once He saw her heart, She left him for the dark.
Talk about fake,
Talk about bold,
Talk about crumbling inside.
©Cindy Palin 2005/revised/2017