Sometimes We Cry


A struggle lost within the silence.

All these worn walls.

My breathing short and small.

Gated rooms await the fall.

Following convention,

seems impractical and obscene.

Exhausted,

the aura that surrounds me,

harsh.

Gifts given from characters in dark dreams.

Personal triumphs,

not as,

illustrious,

as they once seemed.

 

There are some who say,

‘To hold silence is to have hands of gold.

To hold it just a prophecy,’

Yet,

they have not listened for what stillness is not.

 

I have heard the quiet when it is not wanted.

In quickness of the fallen snow.

Under limbs where shine is not bestowed.

In the calm of madness…

When no one is home.

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Well we're gonna have to sit down and think it right through If we're only human what more can we do..... Sometimes We Cry
Well we’re gonna have to sit down and think it right through
If we’re only human what more can we do…..
Sometimes We Cry

 

 

 

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