Crying on my Shoulder


Cry on my Shoulder

Crying on my Shoulder By Martin Hanley

Oh, you’re back again I see, crying on my shoulder. And like a fool I begin to listen. Sighing and breathing, “They don’t understand me.” Deeper still, “I’m leaving for good this time; I promise, I will.” Sometimes so certain and always assured a practiced delivery; uncompromising skill. But you’re not and, you won’t as Lady Luck swings round again. Now your ego’s found another throne, and like an addict collecting good will the well water is lying still. Now you’re drowning beneath this new tide that’s rolling up that hill. Same familiar old stone; the chameleon of your will. “Too busy now,” your words of welcome. Living and dying no longer a thrill. “ What’s he want again?” your hidden voice echoes. Mine replies, “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t so much time to kill.”

Copyright © all rights reserved Martin Hanley July 19 2014

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