Drop a penny, spill your thoughts
I’ll listen for a spell
I’ll grant no gamble, guaranteed
I’ll be your wishing well
Fill my wallet with your woes
I’ll bite so storytell
I’ll line my mind with troubles freed
So go on, share your hell
An old poem to reach out in vain while nobody’s listening, fearing that it’s the truth while blinding yourself with your own palms. If you can’t see the truth, you won’t know how long you’ve been wrong. You won’t know that you missed out on the beauty of life for decades. Now, that’s a comforting…
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