.
"Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter"
John Keats, Ode On A Grecian Urn.

.
I'm never sure how I should take his silence,
It's not by choice, that much I know.
For he is a piper painted on porcelain,
Left to inspire a dreamer in an Ode.

His immortal canopy never sheds a leaf,
But offers no shade - frozen in time -
And as it was written, he never came to life and played
His fair maiden her melodious rhyme.

It sits on his lips as they chip and crack;
A dry mouth, a pipe for melodies made.
Sadly for the piper, I don't share Keats' hope
As he said of his maiden, 'She cannot fade'.

This brave boy's riff will remain dormant,
Haunting and quiet - laid on porcelain,
As I can't help this overwhelming jealousy
Of the notes he'll never play trapped within.

How they reel through my mind but leave nothing -
Not a sound or a ripple of waves,
Whereas mine float a while and decay with little grace,
The dotted-quavers left fading on staves.

I'm never sure how I should take his silence,
It's not by choice, that much I know.
Yet I envy more than words his lifetime in a moment,
In a world in which I wait and watch things grow.

Eventually my voice will disappear...
cause....
People only listen to what they want to hear...

like a bottle drifting through the ocean,
she wandered through life,
trying to explain the words in her head
or why when she was cut she bled ink.

no one could understand her language though.
because she spewed out riddles
like pieces of a puzzle that never fit together.

so she would sit alone and weep
as the tears of ink ran down her cheeks.
for it shattered her soul to be with people
yet at the same time fated to be forever
a l o n e.

She was like an animal
Acting only on what she was made to do
Never experiencing any change in tunes
Her mind free
But her thoughts unheard
She is strangled by the fear of letting go

Help!*

I'm in here*

Tangled beneath untamable vines of conformity

I don't desire to share my opinions with anyone
Too long, have they been bashed upon by peers or anonymous figures
"You should respect their opinion."
What hypocrites, even opinions could be wrong and hurt others

"For the sake of arguing."
It doesn't matter if they humiliate someone.
It doesn't matter if they turn others against them.
It doesn't matter if they were wrong as well

Even if you understand their perspective, they refuse to see yours
I long to be mute
I hate my own speaking voice
If all my words are unheard


"I can't express myself, this secretive awkward human."

If only they knew of the true cynical and diabolical thoughts locked away
Would anyone bother to accept and understand
Or would I be shunned
Isolated like I had been since so long ago

I don't mind singing
The rhythm and flow much better to the accented jumble words
However I'm merely a ghost that no one notice when they have stars to illuminate the room

"Ahhhh.. The jealousy and bitterness will consume me."

"Please see me."
"Please acknowledge me."
"Please talk to me."
"Please hear me."

*I'm fading away.

Eyes closed, there is no escape.
Might as well not look
Or pretend you're asleep.
A struggle. You lose.
A cry emerges. "You ****!"
There are more noises, violent
Slapping you into silence
You are not heard.

Restraining you, they care
For none of your words

Slowly, but surely, you mimic a caged bird
Maybe a squeak here or a scratch there
But nothing more, you cannot be heard

There's no way to raise the alarm, no way to escape
Might as well not look
Might as well give up.
Might as well break.