Searching searching,  out of time
for the place, where I'm alone
somewhere to loose the mime
the silent me, who smiles and waves
who pens a simple rhyme.

A chant, a song, some non-laments
about the ever frothing foam
that flows from gaping, spewing vents
the place of worry words, and fear
so many messages!
So many marked sent.

Somewhat like wolves locked in a cage
not wanting to leave, they snarel and moan
old scars from old wounds, still dripping in rage
cowering!  At the first beam of light.

Free the mad puppies!
Advice from the sage.