I don’t usually write poetry, only really when I am very upset. Wrote this around the time I asked my friends if anyone could lend me a really big fire-breathing dragon for twenty-four hours. Sadly no dragons were available at the time…
Tell me something beautiful,
Something that will make me cry.
Tell me the reason we’re all alive,
Or at least tell me why
You hardly tell me anything at all,
You never speak from the heart.
Instead of telling even one small thing,
You’d rather keep me in the dark.
Tell me where you go at night,
Or where you hide in the day.
Tell me what you see when you look at me,
If that’s why you walk away.
Tell me what makes your heart sing or weep,
Or just something really small.
Because one day I’ll leave and it will be too late
To tell me anything at all.