Sometimes, you know the real reason,
But you still can’t be the one to say it
You know well why they did the thing,
But it doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter at all
It must come from within, in its season
On some level, they know but won’t admit
The canary’s mouth closed; it will not sing
And Van Gogh’s ear refuses the call
By themselves, they’ll have to figure it out
No matter how obvious it may be to you
If you spell it all out, simple and plain
They’ll only reject it as a selfish ploy
Some fall deep into the well of doubt,
Won’t do what the heart most wants to do
They’ll forge on ahead, no matter the pain
Things that love, and are loved, destroy
Avert the eyes of the face in the mirror,
Admitting mistakes, the need to change,
They’ll rake themselves over hot coals
To keep everyone happy, all but the self
Unless it cuts deep, so they feel it clearer
Regardless of how unnecessarily strange
They’ll stick to expired, worn-out goals
Try not to look at the dreams on the shelf
You want so badly to explain it in detail
You know their truth even better than they
If they’d only admit it, they’d be satisfied
You want to scream, draw them a diagram
If you say it for them, your intentions fail
Suspicious of the things you do and say
Fear, manipulations; you must have lied
Some play the willing sacrificial lamb
It’s easier to suffer in miserable silence
Than admit what it is they want the most
Swallow feelings, cause no one displeasure
Love is expensive; it’s cheaper to scream
And their beautiful vision dies in violence
While they suffer daily as drudgery’s host
Twist in boredom’s unhappy full measure
Hold the anchor and let go of the dream
©2024 Kevin Trent Boswell
Kevin Trent Boswell 