If you need it, I'll bring it. 
So many songs. So many poems. 
If you do, I will. 

Slip down the pills. 
So many answers. Not enough windows. 
To open instead of doors. 

I perceive. Sign of three. 
I'm feeling blue this June. 
They claim they're 
dedicated to looking after me. 

Sick of stones always going on tombs. 
Want to make one grow. 
Paint eyes on it like a pet. 
Try to feed it dust. 

My costumes and keepsakes 
bear memories. 
Sometimes they're too heavy for me. 
Though the objects themselves are not. 

So... can you answer me? 
Should I gather? 
Will you let me back in?

First published here.