I listen to their stories
I listen and listen and listen
I ask questions of their stories
To the point that often I don't hear the ends of them
Doesn't matter though
All their stories are the same
Though I always listen
I always ask
I always think
I worry about them after their stories
I imagine the people they are
I used to like the stories
I would listen with open ears and an open heart
I still listen to the stories
The same damn stories
Everyday the same
It's like a sitcom
All the same drama
The same people
The same endings
Nontheless I listen
I ask but not as often
I don't know why I ask
Not like they ever listened to my stories
And on the rare occasion that they do
They never would ask questions
They only hear the surface level
My words don't travel into their hearts
At least that's what it seems
Maybe they listen
They probably don't
These damn story tellers
Make terrible friends
I much prefer cats and dogs
They don't talk
They don't understand a lick of what I say
But they are much better listeners
Unlike those damn storytellers
Those damn tellers their damn stories
My damn friends
