Blue

Gossiping and judging and confronting.

Where has gone all the loving.

If it isn’t good for sure,

I’m not going anywhere,

I don’t need you in my hair,

or shoved down my throught,

except for a few,

I wonder where love goes,

I wonder if you go to this poem and take it in,

my sorrow wants to drain,

let there be a better tomarrow,

without the blackest rain,

my city so friendly true,

but still it hurts,

I get blue,

don’t you?