they always get away,
the ones
i want to keep.
but the boring ones
always stay,
to be seen,
but not heard.
the ninteenth century
child.
i can never
find the right words
for the right moments.
when i do,
the figure
never shows.
the ones i want
to keep
always end up
slipping away.
i'm society's joke.
but that may
just be
the mood.
i don't know.
looking back,
no instances
reveal
that i discovered
the right words
for
the right person
at
the right time,
because the ones i want
to keep
always end up
getting away.
stupid words.

 
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