Grandmother

You feel yourself humoured, your “funny turns” tolerated.

You find yourself isolated, no one really listens.

You’re deafened.  And silenced by their deafness to you

The receptacle into which you poured your love, so much of your love is an empty vessel when you try to drink.

Nobody cares what you say or think.

No one knows or cares how it feels, not enough to help you, to hear you,

to love you enough.

No wonder you’re ready to die.

Posted on June 12, 2015, in depression, Life, Lyrics and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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