Wants to See


Again, that little flashing line is taunting me, daring me write something profound. But sadly, I’ve sent the last few days without much to say. Oh, when I’m out and about I put on my little show. You know nothing much to see, just a happy go lucky jester, putting out what the world wants to see. An interesting turn of the phase, what the world wants to see. Telling me what I’m really feeling isn’t worth their time.

Still the make-up is applied and the lines well-rehearsed. For no one wants to see a reflection, they only want to see perfection. Something they can’t see in themselves. But I am spent, and I am tried. But I have no place to run. Too many depend on me with their burdens left undone. But beneath this façade of what’s to be expected and what they want to get. Lies a broken man, dried up of any potential there might have been left.

So don’t try to read too much into this. For there’s not much left to tell. Less and less pours out of this old mind. So when it finally does go, there won’t be much left to use. Which maybe my golden parachute after all? Forgive my cynicism, the one thing I have left in abundants. But once you’re useless, nobody wants to see you anymore.

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