138. Cul-De-Sac

I buy into your words,
I'm sold on your dreams,
But my feet go the other way,
Like a tree rooted in dirt.

Of all the things I say I crave,
My arms stay beside my hip.
I pray for what I wish what may.
The lies I eat are one hell of a trip.

I have my hands covering my face,
A raincoat to cover up falling rain.
You can see my head lean in forward,
But my eyes never leave the ground.

My hands bump on rocky paper,
Letters made by my blade cut to my heart,
Inked with my blood are letters to you,
But they go unopen like my eyes.

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