To keep these thoughts to myself, is the only option I have. They collide painfully with others, hidden by a silent front.
To let them free, would be to ruin everything. I am a prisoner in my own head: seeing every scenario played and replayed β none of them mostly happy.
So I give a hint there, hope you pick one up here β A silent protest to a silent war. And wonder what you think then. But I already know.
You're as much a prisoner as I. Like choosing a path in a dream that turns to vapors and is gone struck from the memory upon waking
And now, it is all I have. A faint memory of what could be, and that of which, never will.