We are slaves
Of our desires
Of our need
To be needed.
We are servants
Of the voice
Inside our heads
That makes us.
We are fools
And it’s paradise
Or maybe not
Would we know?
We are hopeful
Secretly even after
Our dearest dreams
Have been squashed.
And our gaze
Lingers another second
With bated breath
On the phone.
And we plead
Gently and wildly
For another reprieve
For another glimpse.
Knowing nothing good
Can come about
Close your eyes
For another bout.
