Whose mouth do I speak with
When my anxious thoughts multiply within me
from my heart or from somewhere deep within
Should I bridle my tongue?
Or should I allow it to ride the wind
Until it lessen with time

It’s  tempting: to give away my thoughts
I hate the sound of other poet’s pens
Should I freeze their ink cartridge
and spare the world the pain
from their internal and external mishaps
Should I close my eyes, and say
All's well with the world
The things we must do: not to offend

However, we have to endure many things
to conquer and to win bits at a time
“Comrade-in-arms to my old friends”
all isn’t well within our world.
Because I am a sonnet
In search of a poet
I am imaginative, forceful, and compelling
And sometimes disciplined
But today, who mouth must I speak with?
Anonymous
Your consolations delight my soul.