Your mind.
Your still mind.
Producing words to fill the void,
Consumes my mind with static.
Your bonds,
Commited to your indecisions
Until they crash,
And I make a face that best
Portrays that I might too
Find that you yourself construed
An oddly placed pitfall
Just as unexpectedly tragic.
I can answer your questions
With sincere like gestures
To fulfill your gaps with validation.
Give your misconstrued attempts
An empathic meaning.
A destiny, a reason
To find false comfort
Within a failsafe explanation.
A modern day depiction
As Adam and eve,
Could only survive in
Modern day creation.
You can rest assured
That in this moment you are living;
Count on me to analyze
Finding holes in others' lies
As if clear vision stripped a man's rights,
And I myself have made a victim
Of a man wrapped, and strangled
In his own less estranged,
More confident decisions.
If a tree falls in the woods
And no one is around to hear this,
Are we not bound by logic sake
To eat the lies
If all our closest friends,
Those hurt most by the truth
Would abandon us
if only not to hear them.
I rest my ears and count my words.
If one day I am recited,
I can only hope the words recalled
Are by those the world
Could not so easily frighten.
I'm a writer of childish whims.
To think a man could see his sins,
These freedoms from a man-made prison
As more than feat of retribution.
The walls you place over
Your mind.
Your still mind.