Texted misunderstandings swallow my mind with their essay. Confusing me with numbers. Tainting the voice of reason where few voices speak.
You chase the dollar of my health. You sing of genuine but my tears trickle from the loneliness of sincerity. Where is honour. Where is truth.
I don’t like it when people don’t call a spade a spade. Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing you prance around the edges hoping I will not see your dance.
I look at you with new eyes. Scared. Untrusting. Sadly looking away with apprehension. I don’t like this path where crossroads merge. Fear is now my friend.
It’s like a bad taste in your mouth when you feel like someone is taking you for a ride. Texting can put things totally out of whack. So much so that you don’t know if you are dealing with a friend or smiling assassin. If you have it wrong you walk away sheepishly. Either way vowing never to do business with them again regardless of the truth.
free verse, poetry,