The Stories I Want to Tell by Kevin James
Every night, under the starry sky
I sit beside the bonfire and think of the stories I want to tell
But my lips are stitched, shoulders saddled with favors, spirit half drenched in helplessness
As I look up in the sky and wish for the dense fog of emptiness to dispel
I yearn to convey how I truly feel
Before the suppressed words devour me whole
Oh, how badly I want to ensnare my fears, insecurities
Before they get etched on my soul
I wish the people I am surrounded by were good at reading minds
Only then they’d know, in my sanity, I never agree to what they say
I nod. I stay quiet. I never emit a word of hatred
Yet, for once, I wish I could tell stories I never do without being left to my dismay.
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