The Man with Too Much Left Unsaid

Speaking words, talking about the weather, wishing you are well, thanking you for an act of kindness...how many times there is a feeling it is not enough? Have it not said or done enough? And you measure your life in words, commas, prepositions and logical sentences to give a structure, a meaning to support who you are and who you are with. And I never feel you are reaching out to embrace, to hold who you are with; they seem to drift away like granules of dust under the thick ray of a dying sun. I think my eyes told enough, I will always believe that. Yet, who actually reads what you are thinking if we do not ask? We are all mind readers in this world with the lack of self-validation, with the lack of courage to tell we know what the others are thinking. Out of politeness, being incomplete is still something that I cannot ignore and the taste of bitterness leaves my confounded while I look out on the dark road. Where are those ears that listen to you when you feel you need to whisper them truths and feelings? Are the words not spoken just a missed carpe diem in the big scheme of things? In the end you turn to questions that you answer yourself. Someone at least will answer and it could be your ego as well as your supergo. You don't care - what cares is that we cannot leave words unsaid, not any longer, and some people sing, some people write, some people protest...yet, rarely will people will talk about something that is not the weather. We tread carefully on this path of wrong doings and misunderstood acts and prefer to live in the self-preservation society. Who wants to break out? If you are happy to tell me, I can assure nothing will be left unsaid.