may the silent noise,
that lays now between my ears,
quieten as it hurts now,
the empty calls which I yearn for,
the dissatisfaction of achievement,
this constant validation I search for,
will never come from the people I wish for,
though I am trying to learn to find acceptance within my own tongue,
and mind,
I will forever be indebted,
to the woman in grey,
none of the rest listen,
or want to listen,
instead alms of children,
all three, lay scattered across a continent,
that does not want them, neither accepts them
instead pointed fingers are shot at any wrong done,
how dare they?