The Walk Home Poem by Singer Joy

What they must think...

What I should think...

Of course I see the faults-
I see the repercussions...
But over these high walls,
Only I feel this concussion.

The harder I blink...

Tears flow with each blink...

Of course! I shouldn't feel
This way, and of course!
My mind shouldn't reel
At thoughts of yours.

The more I drink...

The more we both drink...

A hazier feeling I know,
Of everything but you.
God, but that I could follow
What they tell me to do.

The more I wish...

The less wishing helps.