Conflicts of my heart, conflicts that form my sight, conflicts amongst me or the conflicts those upright eyes hide.
Conflicts like an endless tide, swallow them with instances of time.
And the conflicts as harsh as life,
As sudden as an unknown demise.
You see them behind the bars and find your joy, their presence is in the tore wings, in their inability to deploy their own life.
So the kids ask "what if they could speak?"
"Would their speech be as deep?"
"Death won't scare you but life would, you would find corpse despite the souls
Because you would stand within the conflicts as they protest for their right even if the world leaves them ignored,
Even if they could speak their voice would still be unexplored" I say.