Don't Tell Me

 

Hey, you!

Over there, across the room,

yes, YOU.

I see you.

 

Don't tell me

of your boredom

~ there's nothing to do ~

or of your dismay

at Life's dismal details

unending;

 

Don't tell me of your gray salesman's days

when the spark leaves

and no one returns your calls;

Don't tell me

when your career slides away

in a rush of flooding waters

leaving you to find

a different shore;

 

Don't tell me of your everlasting

anger thrown out at the world

and the mean people

who've crossed your path;

Don't tell me

 the horrors and evil and the trivia

of your small small world

as it swallows you

and you feel down;

Don't tell me

of your false lovers

and your lonely nights

bathed in the solitude of stupidity;

Don't tell me

about your disappointments

when someone lets you down

or ignores you

or does not hear you

or hurts you

or fails you

in some imagined way. 

Do you hear me?

Stop looking at me

as if you know me

as if you feel my pain

as if my life and yours

equate

just because you look like me.

Don't tell me. 

I am busy, breathing.

  

© ACG
10 January 2014