Oh, God!
I've lost my sight for words
I've nothing left to yearn for
While breath is stolen from my chest
I write all that I want heard.
"There's no silence," I protest.
I can yell out all
And scream my name
With all parts of me spent.
None know the freedom of my yell.
None stop to question, but I'd tell
An answer: truth in every word
What kind of man is in my shell.
Yes, I'll admit that I'm a recluse
And am quite sure that I'm about two
Steps ahead of the shadow cast upon me
From a less troubled impression of me.
Sat in attention and stood in line
I'm not feigning sick [this is for rhyme]
I wish more clever would surely come
The wit, in speak, is hardly done.
Pronunciation is my ring
And punctuation are my keys
For written words too silly to speak.
So humbly now, I'll ask of you to read.
Submission Name: The Quiet and The Noise
