Lonely

They want to know when we're happy but not when we're sad
when we're laughing out loud but not when we're mad.
Express our feelings and they close their minds
would no more conversations really make them feel fine?

They say they're lonely but they stay away from the real
with eyes that see, yet don't notice what's really going on in this world.

It's not like they think - black or white. Right or wrong.
We all walk different paths, dig different ditches, and need to scale different walls.

Would things change if they found quiet inside and learned to listen?
Heard the beyond the words and understood there are different ways
and that the same choices can indicate different leanings?

Understood that different that can still work together with flow
like the colours that shimmer and blend together in every rainbow.

Will they learn this wisdom that we all know
and move away from that terrible lonely and the angst it can sow.

This poem is a different take on a poem I wrote years ago – Real Conversations.

For happiness, peace and tolerance.