The Phone

Sitting in this crowded room,
surrounded by faces I know.
Their words slide by me,
smiles beckon yet defy me.
And I know that I am alone.
No one breathes on the end of the phone.

Walking alone, weaving my way.
Lower my head, nothing to say.
The choices I make are never right.
So I slip and slide to hide in the night.
And I know that I am alone.
No one talks on the end of the phone.

The sky is blue it matches my mood.
Ashes on my tongue don't taste like food.
Eyes in their head looking at me,
judging, condemning from words I have said.
And I feel so alone.
No one picks up the phone.

Please take me up back to your arms,
remove me from those I love.
Who I only cause harm,
disguised by beauty and charm.
And I am safer alone.
No trust to pick up the phone.

I need to look into your face.
I need your spirit to renew my faith.
Soothe my heart
Still my soul
Show me that I am not alone.
I sit waiting for the sound of the phone.

Show me love
Show me peace
Give me blessings
Let me see
Is this how I have to live my life
Scraped hollow and raw
by the dullest knife.

by David Daykin

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