Ever think I might just
want you to listen to me?
No explanations.
No examinations.
No exaggerations.
Just an open ear?
No arguments.
No judgments.
No abandonments.
But you’ve always gotta
give me grief,
give me guff,
give me gripes.
All I need is a shoulder.
A place I can lean on.
A place I can count on.
Somewhere I feel safe.
Somewhere I feel secure.
I know it’s my fault.
But you’ve always gotta pry,
and poke,
and prod.
Just listen.
Shut up and listen.
Yours is the only ear I can bend.
But maybe I’ve
broken it,
busted it,
battered it beyond repair?
This can’t go on.
It’s not helping me.
It’s hurting me.
I can’t stand anymore of it.
I must move on,
move up,
and move out.
