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Brooding
Brooding here in deepest thought.
Do people care for what I've wrought?
I come to share and they don't care,
afraid to explore the darker fare.
I speak only truth for what I feel.
What I've seen,
how I deal.
A brooding soul I may be.
What's so wrong,
I ask not for your pity.
I only come here to express,
how I see in joy and much distress.
No one reads,
no one cares.
Is my point of view so very rare?
I do not come to blacken your door.
I just come to release my fear.
I brood because you are so blind to my cheer.
It's not always sadness here.
What don't you see?
What don't you get?
Is all I say just useless death?
I hope at least I can touch.
The ones I love,
and those I've lost.
I hope to touch their hearts with what I say.
Continue on to find that day.
When maybe soon they'll understand,
my weakness grand that drives me here.
Will someone see?
Will they get it?
I lose more faith with every second.
So here I sit in brooding slumber.
All I can do is wander and wonder.
poem
by
Michael McParland
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