Alas a hope

        Alas I find myself rumbling and
speaking more and more just air.
Perhaps a bit of comedy in the silence
permeated. Single stroke of genius
that finds the echoing joker's laugh.

       Really is a sincere thing indeed.
Though many might find that a challenge
to understand. A bit of a stretch
to figure out. Alas though I never hope
to have to explain myself to one.

      Roaring like the howling wind I
quake in the cold, bitter air.
Sniffling but I don't dare mention
why. Who would benefit from me
expressing myself? Hmm?

      The entry of ever so clear
hesitation reeks throughout the
uneven breaths but what more can be
done but place a prayer upon wind?

       Dare I even entertain  the thought
anyone listens to me? Shall I?  Really?

       Possible that they quaking
laughter only echoes when the lost
thought shakes me to my core. The
memory finds cross marks upon
the delicate line.

     So obvious but so oblivious  many
can conclude. As even you do  in your
own home. Shocked I understand?
Perhaps you should not be because I
too am imperfect.

    Though so many times I am reminded.
Such gracious reminders. Silly that
a woman's mind over peers into
a vibrant overreaction. Still does that
make us less lovable? No. Yet somehow
it does.

     Forbid me for thinking it so, yet
what else can be given for the sanity
in the truth. Either love or hate.
Don't be the medium. Don't be the
"Okay" or the "maybe". It doesn't
do anything. That just sits and
eats.

     Yet we, even I do not object.
Submissive I am for the game, the
rules  attend it so. Therefore I
must obey to be able to go forward.

      Still does the pain cease? No.
Still I am standing. Firmly placed
where I must be. Perhaps, maybe,
someday or shrugging okay is good
enough for some. Me? No.

      I hope, I dream of more. Yet
what can I even demand? What
can be mine to hope for? Alas is
there really anything?

     Eh the sounded words of yesterday
cackle inside my mind. Seriously
a rotten mold can fester or can
be beneficial. Which way it turns
is up to you.

      So correct me if I have daringly
leaped far into a deep blackness.
I do want to know - where do I really
lay inside the mind of some.

      Haha to drone on and on about
bits of sadness, depressing thoughts
of dried hopes I would rather not.
Pardon the dust in your face as I give
myself the brushing I so need. The
help standing up since you foot has
ground me into silence.

         Sorry dear friend either talk
or leave me be because  I hate
crying and I dispise the reigning
pressure that follows. Either hug,
wave or smile because I cannot
speak unless you do.