Words have gone out of race,
They've taken our last breaths.
With every unheard truth,
I get crushed by the wall that has left.
Air suffocates words,
Engulfs them, till they won’t be heard
Till they rot in their cage
Till they can never be saved
Living on an inhale,
With that, how can you ever be okay?
How can you surrender and walk covering your mouth and ears?
Don’t they choke on the air you've breathed?
Don't they get on their knees and beg for a release?
Don't you see your hands torturing what's meant to be said?
Tormenting lumps of blurts that shroud your head,
How can you ever sleep?
Tongues fell apart,
And you're not able to phrase it anymore.
Faces are vague,
Voices have omitted what they're living for.
Solitude was a sword with two ends, and its wounds are planted on the back of my throat.
My past has spat out this lump of distress,
I'm the over-worn, old, wine stained dress,
That is longing for details,
To descend into a sharp relief.
But you now worship the ghostly script,
It's yourselves, you've deceived.
You've left letters unread,
The light untouched,
And old books unwritten,
For you have had too much,
Of paint with shades of blue,
You left the sky bloodless, dreary.
If only it knew.