Something To Say To Get Out

I did not limp your wrists. Nor was I the one, Who convinced you to live your life, Spineless. It seems to me that is your endeavor. Done to achieve what it is you perceive. But I do think of you, As one who is afraid to come forward to say... What you find important to verbalize, In front of one's face... Instead of behind one's back. With a doing of that you do quite often. And those I know... Who have something to say to get out, And off of their minds to clear slates... Are just not the ones... Who go shopping to demonstrate, A working out of their frustrations.