| Written: JULY 11, 2003 |
Here I sit seeing you,
Sitting, wallowing in your prison.
Beyond the dirty arms of want,
You can see, but not embrace.
We both know you would touch,
If only the walls were not build around you.
If only you could find that misplaced key,
Your freedom to do as you willed.
So it is better we see through memory,
View only empty dreams and fantasies.
As I think you think as well,
Unable to fulfill your lusts.
Hating sitting here, seeming across the world,
Doing nothing more than looking at you.
