Do we pay for entertainment, or steal it
Because we know we'll get our moneys worth?
Not in the least.
We buy into a dream, a hype, a myth.
And only sometimes does it all fall into place.
When I laugh, every last layer falls away.
When you laugh, you are guilty for some reason.
And I can't recall why that is.
Although you might have told me
And you only told me
Because you were drunk and I was too.
Only indulging in certain things can we be honest and true.
The sober, straight disposition can be a chore.
So we remove it like a raincoat.
We scrub it off our souls with bleach.
And that's why we are drenched and burning
For everything we second-guessed
For all the times we could have spoken out
But shut up only to save a fool his fall from grace.
Beware the quiet man why not.
What does he know that he doesn't share.
Does he speak to himself in the morning
The guilt of his soul spilling out in short measure
For all the words he aches to say in public
But cannot force out.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem