not so
without sound
there is a heartbeat
a gentle sniff
a scream
a hauntingly beautiful
song
a voice carrying
a burden
a body bent
standing strong
an unhappy heart
that bleeds
upon paradise
rearranging
circumstance
to justifiably
and painfully
try to arguably
lay down beside
What Is Wrong

We tend to lick our wounds
in the quiet of the night
when we think others
are sleeping
We stay awake
to protect them
from our own fright

We sit beneath one sided glass
so we can't see our own
reflection
and pretend we care so deep
as we are buried
beneath our defection

In the quiet
without the light
shining on our
imperfection
Gold and Silver
have no worth
as dull as Copper
and Nickel
ten times less
Precious
infinitely more
worth
than the babble of
the day to day
that's infects my ears
In the quiet
of the night
your precious voice
rises
The only song
my heart hears