No, I never told you anything,
I knew you'd never hear.
Blocking it out from the lips of your lover, your trusted, you own voice as it echos in your head.

And I,
I never once said it.

Taking a needle from the haystack on your farm,
I sharpened the point to collect my thoughts at the tip.
And stitching delicately,
I sewed my lips together.
Now they'll never tell.
Never speak unwanted truths.

Yet I don't recall your vote of thanks.

This twisted environment is entirely unintended for life.
You prefer to live elsewhere -
Where you can twist it all to the extremes,
To the point where one more turn shatters all existence;
It's your favourite place to be.

The beauty being that any second,
Any movement,
May well induce that fateful collapse.

Show me the reality in that then,
Chosen Child, Barefooted Reveler, Ancient Rambler.
I cut you down.
I sew your lips.
I hold your hand.

Oh, my little one,
You have done so well.