Mr. Farther
The halogen street lights
are calling you by name,
Mr. Farther.
They see you in your miserable motions
and hear your insides eating themselves.
They want you to join them in
lofty indifference, as they are
above the atrocities of this age,
and they act as an anchor for others,
like you,
and also like you,
they have their own problems to deal with,
the same problems that they ignore in order
to help others,
when in actuality, it is them who need the help,
and the only ones that can help them
are the ones that are guided by them.
They can’t help themselves,
and neither can you,
Mr. Farther.
What are you waiting for, Mr. Farther?
The clacking of your heels
echoes against the brick walls of your inner sanctum,
Your pacing, thinking, praying, cringing,
waiting, but for what?
A response? A reply?
Anything?
Patience, Mr. Farther, patience.
I know you want answers now, but…
you’ll just have to wait.
Put your focus on something else,
like your dreams, ambitions and future.
Sometimes, you have to put your heart aside.
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