Stand In a Field and Scream
When you are confused, anxious, in pain, your stomach in a granny knot.
Near the end, nowhere to go, no friends, no family that understands.
"Stand in a field and scream," it helps, they say. I can tell you; it does not.
You've given yourself away; soul, body turned into a parking lot.
It feels like you exist only in a twilight world, a no man's land,
when you are confused, anxious, in pain, your stomach in a granny knot.
When your heart has bled bone dry to leave a shriveled purple apricot,
lover gone, left for another, even worse, you heard it second-hand,
"stand in a field and scream;" it helps, they say. I can tell you; it does not.
You've tried and tried so desperately hard, giving everything you've got.
It's like the walking of the living dead with feet in deep dark quicksand
when you are confused, anxious, in pain, your stomach in a granny knot.
When you've lost all you desire, your love, your life, your home, your Camelot,
and it's become much more than you can weather, tolerate, or withstand.
"Stand in a field and scream," it helps, they say. I can tell you; it does not.
From all I've learned in love and life, and that's a lot, here's a parting shot;
by do-gooders and hosts of influencers, it's often said offhand:
"When you are confused, anxious, in pain, your stomach in a granny knot,
stand in a field and scream; it helps," they say. I can tell you; it does not.
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