Pry

Jarrett Osborn

Rain on my roof, constant tapping, sounds like there’s invaders outside
always marching, always shouting, pouring down hour glass counting

Half dissected, introverted, I don’t mean to pry
Past protracted, so exhausted, I don’t even try

Run my fingers on the railing, what its like to be wide open
Picture blurs out, voices get dull, time is traveling in slow motion

Such sharp words, pinpoint precision
Gentle glances, deep incisions