Do you see me contemplating in dark corners?
Do you feel my life needs more color added to my page?
Do you want me to move away from the page?
Perhaps put it within a casket in its own grave?
Is my work fruitless and futile to you?
What do you mean used to, once was, years ago?
How often has the cross saved you?
Do your eyes burn in the night when you think of God too??
Has your soul cascaded against the rocks, because it leapt from your chest when the railing was pressed against your stomach and you wondered what would happen if you jumped?
Do you hear sirens in the night and think of who might be dying?
What from and why?
Do they have children?
What were their thoughts when they looked into their first child’s eyes?
Held them in their hands?
Was it love?
Was it fear?
What are their thoughts now as the ambulance screams past?
Is it fear?
Is it regret?
Is their stomach full of pills and gin?
Is it a broken heart?
And what do their children think of them now?
What do you think of them now?