A whisper within the tall reeds,
as hollow words
echo though those static.
Yet ever word has motion
on those unmoved.
Yet words can collect upon the cracks.
Weaving untruths between each,
caressed form.
And still though unmoved.
I heard the lies that started
as a ripple in a pond.
But made there way through
the reeds that stood tall.
And I just gazed as the wind told me,
that no matter the ripples.
A breeze is still made,
and will pass through,
the reeds of static
whispers.
I cried on the edge,
knowing
that I neither had thrown
a stone of lies within
or that I had breathed untruths
that were
wavering between static reeds.
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 6:05 PM UTC
A whisper within the tall reeds,
as hollow words
echo though those static.
Yet ever word has motion
on those unmoved.
Yet words can collect upon the cracks.
Weaving untruths between each,
caressed form.
And still though unmoved.
I heard the lies that started
as a ripple in a pond.
But made there way through
the reeds that stood tall.
And I just gazed as the wind told me,
that no matter the ripples.
A breeze is still made,
and will pass through,
the reeds of static
whispers.
I cried on the edge,
knowing
that I neither had thrown
a stone of lies within
or that I had breathed untruths
that were
wavering between static reeds.
