...

That I wish to reach out is true
But so is that I know for once
No one will come and sit by me
and hold me as I sob... very quietly...
And endlessly perhaps...

The stories are but all the same
and have been told a million times
and I have nothing more to say...
just cry and may be wither away..
The withering will be slow perhaps...

So I sit here and judge myself
and close myself to being judged by you
there is nothing left to understand
and of course I never stood a chance...
So disappear I will perhaps...

I feel far away from friends I know
I feel far from everyone but me
And every tear that longed to come
flows unattended one by one...
I never knew how to reach out though
I never knew how to ask perhaps
I don't even know how to give without
feeling shy and most inhibited
I have wanted someone to find the words
the eyes, the warmth that could make me live
give me meaning and reason and hope I know
and I know no one will ever come..
That I wish to reach out is true
But so is that I know for once
No one will come and sit by me
and hold me as I sob... very quietly...
And endlessly perhaps...