The tiresome burden of dreams
That seek understanding
Is beyond my patience.
I fear you.
You, with your kindness,
Who claim to understand my pain;
Armed with words, and comforting sounds
You try to numb it.
Your anaesthetic patience,
Product of an orderly world,
Applied on living, breathing, wounds.
Did you really think
It would suffice?
I fear you.
You, who clean my festering wounds
Caused by broken dreams,
Wash my brain,
Make me drink my tears
Saying 'It will get better'
Can you do any better?
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