The silence of your voice is like birdsong
As if the world awakens and breathes In the vacuum of consequences That my choice has brought me Some may call this road easy All roads are easy when viewed from afar Nor is the end of the road knowable Before anyone appraised my choices I was the one who lived and dealt with my path And the ghosts who surfed my wake For every voice that may invade my airspace I've a choir of disembodied and obdurate voices Harmonizing, creating a choir of doubt A cacophony of anxiety in the chamber of my mind So one less instrument, one less trebuchet One less rotting carcass hurled over my battlement You may either take my hand and help me Or dissipate into the miasma of noise That I am nearly unable to manage The silence of your voice is like birdsong |
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May 2016
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