Nothing Special


Nothing special,
just one of many
longing so to die -
and no one will see…

Too weak, we cannot
cope with circumstance,
so we must pretend,
and live the charade.

Should it lapse, we fail -
destroying ourselves;
discovering then,
who had cared for us.

Maintaining balance,
walking a thin line;
not trusting ourselves,
demented by hate.

We seek our escape,
while biding our time;
playing at our lives -
no one can suspect…

Ever the darkness,
Presses… from the edge;
slowly encircles,
so sure of itself!

It knows us too well,
where to press and when!
Timing so perfect;
striking now, again!

Emotion dying -
safer that way;
all too unstable,
promising nothing.

Nothing is truthful!
All fleeting, dying!
We trust no one -
for no one is there…



(c) 2002 Robert H. Harrison