You, little is known of
You have hidden away in tidy scarves,
Black sweatshirts
You have all the answers
You break down rules
Adhere to your own code more strongly
Than the weaker persons who don't need to be strong
Than most strong people can adhere,
If they set boundries
Such problems with the world these days.
Theres so many things possibly to be said
But to find the words that would dispell
Or at the very least sooth
As difficult as you've got it
Maybe this was the wrong thing
How can I know with what I know?
I try you try it's a whole big trying thing
You've managed, you've done a great deal
I sit amazed at what all this blackness shrouds
Tear back that wall
Set aside the scarves and socks and sweatshirts and armwarmers
You've got something great going
Something so few people have
But you've locked it away
No one gets past the portculis
Maybe reach a hand through the bars to wave hello or hold you hand
But other than that we're on the outside
Looking into a smokescreen
Wondering when the gold might get out of the ore
On occassion, when call arises
Strain to hear to voice comeing over the wall
But its too high for mortal man to climb
To thick for mortal ears to trace through
In the end it all comes down to you
With the rest of the world holding their breath
And I'm hopeing that maybe something or someone
Who has answers and can make it ok again
But you know, the calvalry might be late as usual
So without anything else to be done
Its late at night again
Camped out by the portculis
Talking through some cans on a string
Tradeing scraps of notebook paper
Unkempt poetry scrawled in black or blue ballpoint ink
Praying for a good day