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Well, you can get back to looking for me again.
I promise I won't be too hard to find
althought I'm most likely not ready to be caught again.
Just keep going up Stanley and turn right after the convienence store.
Poof, there I'll be.
Is that a good enough hint?
Hmn, what else can I tell you?
You'll know it's me
because I'm the guy who looks like he'll die without a hug right away.
You'll hear me crying from blocks away
because I inadvertently strangled all my other playmates.
Look for me in the driveway with my head in my hands
or in the backyard under the deck
or on my roof under the stars
with a candle and a set of eyes closed tight,
hoping you'll find me soon,
but scared that you will pretend you don't see me,
and go off to play two-hand touch
with the rough boys up the street.
I never understood why everyone always wanted to play their game
that's all about winning and jumping on other people that you barely know.
But everyone does.
And that leaves me here
trying to decide whether I should seek, or just hide.
Because no one ever likes it when I find them,
and no one wants to find me.
I hate it.
Playing with yourself only works for so long
until it becomes even more pointless than it sounds.
There needs to be someone else
to count to the high up, old numbers with
and hide under the bed, and whisper gently with
and to give each other the strength and courage
to try to run to home free.
Please try.
I'm not that hard to find,
I promise.
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