We're the ones
who find shelter in the background
of a 'World wide' web.
spitting words of dark venom
on a blank page, with
a language so rich, no one
can truly understand.
Outcast
by those who never tried, nor
understood the meaning
of their own tongue.
with words more powerful
then the weapons they made.
A symphony of vibrations waiting,
for a listener yet not
to be heard,
Not bound.
behind closed doors,
or names with no faces.
nor fiction, nor prose
but real life emotions,
grief, sadness and anger
cried out in a rage.
We're the ones
who find solace
in black blood,
on a page.
-Sx