Where's The Peace
The day seems to eat away the time and in the end we are no less content. I silently scream and am not heard because the needing to tell could hurt. The mind thinks so many things that only I can hear, so it isn't heard at all out loud. I can't sleep, I can't complain and I can't leave! What do I do then? I can write stupid little things on paper and tomorrow read this and laugh! Where's the Peace, I ask! And to me I say: there is none.
