Red Room Where the Writers Are

....and by the way, "friends", i am alive,

so catch up with me before i leave,

it could be soon,

it could be now,

yes, you'd be sorry i know..

i know you are great, i know you are sad,

i know you suffer this and that,

but a friendly smile,

a vibrant touch would do,

a couple of how are you,

every now and then,

but sincere to the bones,

food that would keep me living,

for times to come,

when the well is dry,

and a simple smile is nigh,

i would then remember, no,

i would always remember, true.

but you know what has come of me?

an exhausted man

who works so hard to impress

just to gain somebody's attention,

just to feel seen,

he cares not for words of praise,

only in a desperate search

to mine golden feelings,

but when the statue falls,

the man o'peace,

falls and breaks,

only a friend would care,

no one else would spare a look

to a broken piece of clay...

"friends", i am not an angel, you see,

and i am afraid that one day,

you'd become the proof...