Is it me?

Or do people walk too slowly,

Too quickly

And pass by the violets in the roses' shifting shade?

Is it me?

Or do people speak to soon,

Before others' heartbeats are considered?

The foreseen consequences of words ill-spoke

Are demons to pay.

Is it me?

Or do people sliding by

Always have that snide look,

That silent look,

As stealthy secrets are released by the whispers;

Set free and away.

Is it me?

Or do looks that pierce souls

Are too often,

Too familiar;

So expected these days.

Is it me?

Or are friendships now meaningless;

Fair weather,

Gold digging,

The next word now pends.

Is it me?

That got it wrong,

That twists words into answers?

That pushes and pushes

My true ones away?

Is it me?

Or are walls getting higher,

Waters getting deeper,

And darkness more restless?

Is it me?

Is it me?

Is it me?

Or does anyone else feel the world sinking away?