Your eyes, your lips speak different truths of their own
The lips if they want to issue trite statements cherry picked from magazines
And the eyes glaze in boredom that the subject isn’t you.
When you talk the story has to say you are a martyr of your own life
Blame for things lie elsewhere, and your doorstep is scrubbed clean
You don’t notice the stains you have made lying there
Shielded from the beginning and never learning to grow or give
Though you congratulate yourself on your generosity
You are as transparent as a window pane
With a memory as murky as a puddle where it suits
So carry on and drink
Salute yourself as no one else does
And you cry into your coffee cup at the lack of understanding
You aren’t appreciated for the things you might have done
The world is always the same speaking a different truth
To your own sacred song
Ailsa
©AilsaCawleypoetry 2016
ailsacawley 