Silent skills
with never ending quills
writing only bending wills,
running to the violent hills.

The feet with which I walk upon,
jump up from the ground
warmed by the sun
I will come undone.
So I’ll break through the lies
of the unsatisfied
drop a verse so superb
they use my name as a verb.
But, the skill is a curse
ordered words construct my own hearse

And, she doesn’t see me,
knows one name but I’ve got three
I guess I’ve got to be free.
Introduce me to myself
leave the sappy stuff on the shelf.
It’s hard not to die
when you’re not living to heal
but living to survive.

So sleep away now
dream your dreams
sleep in peace.
This lifelines marred by the crease.
Now to carry on,
words spoken meaning gone.
Heavy head holding heartless hope,
trying times taught these minds to cope

Sometimes I wish I could pause those hands,
that sluggish tick that mocks me.
Each slow sound races like the trickling of sands.
If I could halt them,
for only a while-

What joys could I posses,
if the weight they hold were born by me,
what truths would I be told.
Their harsh regime cripples the weak,
and decimates the old.

Their relentless movement stifles me,
trapped within their design.
The strongest hands that be
are no match for those that drive them.

Only in death do we escape this mighty pair,
in the sleep of ages are we free.
Yet we seem to cheat them, you and me.
In each frozen second of voiceless speech.