I am not sure yet,
Instincts still too strong,
Better than I have been like rain falling,
When the cupboard is bare, who can say it’s wrong?
Dear Sylvia, they now put you in dark spotlights,
Maybe it is the only light we will ever know.
Dear Sylvia, they only have their needs in sight,
Is it the fool or the smart one who blows?
I can’t hear them anymore,
Mouths I knew bred many lies,
Here I sit, watching monsters win prizes,
No longer content to see it play out in my eyes.
Dear Sylvia, guess I’m writing to a ghost,
Because all around me have gone and died.
Dear Sylvia, sorry to call so very very late,
But I’m stuck between the insults of life and pride.