Metaphorical experiences I don't veil very well.

Roll my thoughts up on a scrap of paper.
Slide it into the bottle and toss it overboard
It's not that I hope for anyone to find them and come rescue me
I don’t know why I do it, habit?
Perhaps there is some comfort in knowing that there is a chance
if only small as a bottle on an ocean
That someone will read them
And that one person will know how I really feel.

You ask me what I want
you ask me how I feel.
If I’m happy or satisfied
But you don’t really want to hear me say it
You know the truth already
Is it mutual denial of obvious truth?
We live our lives fighting with all we are
To not admit the things that to anyone else would be undeniable
I tell you what I want
you look at me and tell me you can’t do it
I tell you what I need to survive
And you are shocked that what you provide isn’t enough
I give you my all you say
But you know it’s a lie
You can never give your all too some one who you hold bitterness towards
Yes that’s right
As always I preach to myself as well
Not some self-righteous ass
I have learned to not waste my time
My dreams mean nothing to you and I know that
No more than some thing for conversation
So I write them here
On this scrap of paper
I seal them in this bottle and drop it overboard.
I see it floating off into the distance and suddenly I feel happy