(In)Ability To Listen

Why must every syllable I speak, be contested?

As if all of the public stands against me,

with not one, seeking understanding...

as of I could explain it anyway‐

Now, I'm not looking for someone to just agree with me‐

To no one, am I making any attempt to convince of my agenda,

or lack there of...

but, every rebuttal, just seems too rehearsed

unless, that is just what I've come to infer‐

And neither, am I looking for pity

for how I'm "always" messing up‐

It's not that I just want to vent, but...

is anyone, even listening?...

Am I?...

I mean, certainly if I could be met where I'm at...

I would have, by now, but...

not even I know where I stand‐

So, can I expect another to meet me there?...

wherever "there" is?

How?

Certainly not‐

Certainly it is I, who misunderstands...

I mean, I "always" am, but...

this is much more than a matter of right and wrong,

as I have become too used to,

"correction"

"critiquing"

"constructive criticism"

and all the rest...

from all but, who knows what stirs within‐

Now, I don't consider myself to be any kind of victim, but...

I see that I am the one and only, that is here...

but of course, that is not true‐

I hear that I am the only one, who stands here...

although, I am frequently told,

"You're not alone."

Of course, that is true...

But...

That's not what I see‐

Not what I can seem to believe‐

Who else, is in this boat?

Who else, is on this sea?

Who can come meet me?

Certainly someone whose path has crossed my own

truly understands what stirs within...

It must be...

my own, inability to listen‐