i.t._w.i.l.l._b.e._p.a.i.n.f.u.l.
I heard him singing
of a story he couldn’t possibly tell
He bathe the night air
with the solemn sorrow
of the story he couldn’t spell
A man of steel
A man of compassion
But a man who couldn’t own his possession
His voice was unheard
His move was untouched
He remains stagnant
on the spot where I left him
He remains null
by the only reason he never believes in
It took me awhile to realise
he was no longer singing
of the story he couldn’t tell
He was humming
of a story he never wants to dwell
I see fear behind that face
I hear scream behind that whisper
A story he plays
by the reason he thought would be fine
and the same reason that he kept to himself
I felt sorry
for him
more for myself
of learning the story
that wasn’t so real after all
I heard him
His last deciding script
He would take that story with him on the road
A long and unending tarmac
A smile broke in me
for I was not in that same story
I have a story too
One I could tell
One that I own
One I sing with all of soul
’til running out of breath
I still hear him mumbling
of the story he wishes to tell
No matter how far that gets him to
it shall remains a story he’s able to feel
I hear you
I hear you, not so well
