Friday, June 8, 2012

A Helping Hand

Bother me with another sad story,
The kind where I glaze over and don't care;
For I am filled with my own sad worry,
And couldn't care less about how you fare.
Walk up the street, and then, come back again
When the arrow of sympathy turns you.
But no matter how sympathetic, when
You return it's because you  too are blue.
Stare into my eyes and look for pity,
As I stare into the depths of a far
Of place within your mind, a grand city!
Where the wind blows me higher, and I soar!
Yet to get there I require your help;
Without you I am alone, a mere whelp.

                   A Helping Hand, (c) Luke Bennette, June 2012

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