They always say , why didn’t they
reach out ? But reach out to who?
Reach out to you ?
And burden with what? Theres always a glut
of responsibility to bear
Who has shoulders to spare ? And who’s got the time ? There’s few who could ever find.
And how long since you’ve talked?
We often have to chalk
it up to life getting in the way; Hasn’t it been a dogs age ?
And how uncomfortable is it to stay :To make that small talk , to get to the real thoughts , share some real things and get to some meaning.
And you don’t want to be that one; that person whom is always glum.
No , “Everything is great.”
We lie ’cause we cant say it.
Its impossible to share. How do you express despair ?
How do you show whats numb ? Few see where your coming from.
And then how do you relate with someone that never ached ? At least not like you in your mind , ones mental health cant be defined, and if you really try to share , all you really do is scare , and you don’t want to hurt no more, no one ,
not them , not you , so that makes it more a chore , than reaching out is worth, and anyway, it rarely ever works.
Who’s got answers to things you cant describe ? What help can anyone really provide ?
So you white-knuckle it again, so you don’t burden a friend
so you don’t extinguish another’s light , and add guilt to your night – thoughts , where you get lost
and hope the next new day washes away
the pain. So you never have to reach out again
By Kevin Beary