Midas

There's nothing in these words
To draw my own attention
To comfort my endless grieving
Or divert this twisted session.

I stare and stare at them
I'll read em over and over
But I find nothing to mend
For this heart's forever sober.

Some will find them grand
Others may find them poor
While I can't seem to land
The words to strike MY core.

For that's all I really want
To understand the meaning
Not to show or flaunt
The words forever teeming.

So I'll say "I Know I know
The wondrous fault is mine
Some emotions I wouldn't show
And passed on line to line."

I'll indict myself with this
To the true nature I am blind
For all the colors I miss
Would comfort this restless mind.