Not Long Left
Everybody's Talking To Someone Apart From Me - Poem by Not Long Left
everybody talking to somebody apart from me.
The birds in the ribs of the trees,
are deep in winged words of discussion,
The man in the ancient red phone box,
speaks in one tone boredom to his wife.
The eastern winds argue with the western winds,
debating in the open sky.
The cars, even the cars communicate,
with flashing lights and horns that hit walls.
Everybody's talking to someone apart from me.
like the alien at a family party,
I stand beside a rainfull of chitter chatter,
and not one single droplet falls on me.
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