I try to talk and you don’t listen
You just do not care —
Your mind is always someplace else
It might be anywhere
I thought that we were partners, equals
But you seem to feel
That you can treat me as though I
Was not here, or, not real
Early days, you paid attention
Asked about my day;
Now your mind is on the ball game
Not on what I say
You’re a jerk and you’re infertile,
And look like a cow.
That seems mean, but I know
You’re not list’ning
Anyhow
Dear Owen Poetic Epilepsy,
I also like this poem.
Regards,
Sam.