You Ask. Poem by Valerie Chase

An array of questions.
You ask me to speak.
To tell the truth -
inside of to weep.
'What is wrong with you? '
I just stare. I answer the question -
but only with a glare.
I would expect you to know what troubles me.
That's just not how things between you and I can be.
I respond inside time after time,
I wish you knew, at the dropp of a dime.
Praying that someday the words will escape my mouth.
'I know what you do, when I'm not around, you think it's profound, you think there is no sound.'
I listen like a hawk, I've got ears so sharp.
I investigate and literate,
by the end - I can't help but hate.
I hate you in some ways, the ways that you hide from me.
I'm supposed to be your honest friend
So just ask me again,
'What is wrong with you? '
And so - we begin.