Who do you tell when you have a story,
Who would just maybe listen to your tale?
Those who would heed with plastic ears
And just maybe catch tears in a leaky pail.
How can you cope with trickery,
Or just maybe, ‘friends’ who use you?
And the day you find sincerity
Is just maybe too late, then we’ll lose you.

Perhaps they say it’s just your manner,
Or you are obliging, too nice?
A conquest for society’s penile brains
Merely disguised, but they are just mice.
Just maybe it’s that you are too trusting,
Not seeing the mischief in their eyes?
Just maybe your door is open too long
And they get a foothold with their lies

So until the day you end your quest,
You remain an island, in a brick wall.
Just maybe wanting to see no one,
But they see you, their stilts are tall.

Your quest.  Just maybe it is futile.
For always your wall will be broken-
And not scaled, by those from another world
Who crash through, and reality is awoken.
And in your island, you’re safe meanwhile-
As long as no one leans on your wall.
Just maybe there is one trying to scale it-
But when he speaks he always seems to fall.