If loose lips sink ships,
why does no blame fall on the architect?
If words can crack steel with vigor and zeal,
the same way they shatter silence—
was it ever truly worthy?
What good is a house or a mansion
if it’s made of cards,
built on black aces and eights,
where love decays and vengeance waits?
And still we blame the winds,
the words, the tongues they travel on,
but never the hands from which the structure spawned.
Like blaming the fall of a king on a pawn,
or the slumber of death, on a yawn.
Maybe we were never meant to build,
only to marvel at ruins.
Maybe the cracks were prayers,
the leaks were hymns,
and every sinking ship
was just the sea reclaiming what was hers.
The world calls it tragedy.
But I call it truth.
that nothing worth keeping
fears a whisper.
That love, if real,
should not need silence to survive.
So let them talk.
Let the words rise like storms.
If the vessel breaks,
it was never seaworthy.
And if I drown,
then let me drown
with my lips unsealed.
Nov 19, 2025
Nov 19, 2025 at 4:37 PM UTC
If loose lips sink ships,
why does no blame fall on the architect?
If words can crack steel with vigor and zeal,
the same way they shatter silence—
was it ever truly worthy?
What good is a house or a mansion
if it’s made of cards,
built on black aces and eights,
where love decays and vengeance waits?
And still we blame the winds,
the words, the tongues they travel on,
but never the hands from which the structure spawned.
Like blaming the fall of a king on a pawn,
or the slumber of death, on a yawn.
Maybe we were never meant to build,
only to marvel at ruins.
Maybe the cracks were prayers,
the leaks were hymns,
and every sinking ship
was just the sea reclaiming what was hers.
The world calls it tragedy.
But I call it truth.
that nothing worth keeping
fears a whisper.
That love, if real,
should not need silence to survive.
So let them talk.
Let the words rise like storms.
If the vessel breaks,
it was never seaworthy.
And if I drown,
then let me drown
with my lips unsealed.