The More Things Change (standard:poetry, 226 words)
Author: Finn McKool	Added: May 14 2003	Views/Reads: 3181/0	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Whether faith or love, the hardest part is the silence. Not knowing whether you are believing in something or someone worth the time and pain. But even the downfalls are magnificent.

Part of being a true believer Is talking into a dead reciever And keep
hoping you are heard. 

I'm waiting for all this faith to deliver. For warm arms to stop the
shivers Or at least one true and hopeful word. 

But all I've got's doubts and excuses Death silent time and a hand of
deuces But that's better than aces and eights 

And no matter how good it seems It seems it's still all just dreams
Bedroom fancies, heart ache and long waits 

I tell you how much I bleed What I want, and what I need I give you
dusty secrets from under my bed. 

But all I seem to get are stalls Mysterious answers and occasional phone
calls. Which stir the hope and neuroses inside my head. 

This poem ain't no revolution It ain't no ultimatum or solution Just a
confession of drowning man. 

I just need an absolution, or some hope Or just an answer, or how 'bout
some rope? Because the silence is getting more than I can stand. 

But I'm an old campaigner in this kind of war. I know this dance, and I
know this floor. So I can take a few more steps. 

Because maybe hope's my drug of choice And maybe heart ache's my true
voice Because the more I give the more I seem to get. 


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