Does it bother you that people don’t care what’s inside your mind?
That after they’ve exhausted their opinions
You have choices.
To share yours that settle like dust on an untended table
Or sit in silence like ignorance swimming through cold city chaos

How do you feel knowing that when they ask a question
Start a conversation
It’s a trick for you treat them by opening the door
Their words and opinions flooding in your basket, careless of yours?

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Hey everyone!

Sircharles here! This poem is an unfinished piece. It does not feel ready to me. I don’t usually do this (I’ve actually never done this before) but I wanted to ask for some help in completing this piece. How do you think I should continue with it? How would you continue with it? Any specific edits that you would make to it? Or do you think the poem is complete and good as is? The poem is about someone initiating a conversation with you (especially by asking you a question) but honestly they just want you to start talking so they’d have an excuse to share what is on their mind—they do not care about what you have to say.

Please let me know your thoughts. Thank you!

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