Soft Voice, Loud Thoughts
Like the drip, drip, drip
Of a tap that won't,
No, can't get fixed.
And those words otherwise
Left unheard drip, drip, drip
With the broken tap
Allowong those Loud Thoughts,
With those Soft Voices
Their means to their end;
To shout...
Drip, drip, drip
And the shouting is not that
Shrieking, screaming
Of a child left unfed
Or a mother left mourning
But rather of those few words
Drip, drip, drip
That make their way past
A vocal cord which feels as though
It has already been ripped out
A vocal cord ripped out by those
Loud Voices with Soft Thoughts,
With rough hands and rougher tongue
Who use and abuse their words
Like everything else they've thrown away.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
And so Loud Thoughts with Soft Voices
Are made to feel obsolete
In a world of shrieking, screaming, shouting!
Drip! Drip! Drip!
But Loud Voices with Soft Thoughts
Would rather shout at brick walls
Than... Breathe...
And then so ... what's the point?
Those Loud Thoughts with Soft Voices
Sooner or later begin to deafen themselves
With the Soft Thoughts of Loud Voices
And that drip, drip, drip
Of Soft Voices with Loud Thoughts
Rushes and Gushes with the shrieking,
Screaming and shouting
At brick walls.
Can you still feel your vocal cords?
Inspired by the drip, drip, drip of a broken tap and that of careless words left to linger
