Out Of The Blue
I am not the one to be calling,
by Lawrence S. Pertillar
From out of the blue.
Quickly I get suspicious when people do.
For mearly twenty-seven years,
I have lived where I've been.
With intentions to visit for just a weekend.
And familiar with a small of gossipers and liars,
I've learned a peace to keep protected...
Once having it received is my main desire.
Very few came to make appearances,
When my parents were sick but still alive.
And emotionally 'then' I barely survived.
And leaving to abandon every possession I owned,
In San Antonio, Texas a place I had called home...
People were vicious spreading rumors and innuendos.
To express what I had to address,
Facing obstacles and being depressed...
Isn't worth confessing after healing from illnesses.
No I am not the one to call from out of the blue.
Especially to say to me, 'Hello, how are you? '
Because pretentiousness I don't accept to excuse.