A trade of silence
I know what the walls feel like;
Feels like being held by one and forced on by the other.
Sometimes I am so devoid of air
when I raise my head out
I can breathe the world in.
So I do
only to have the world but of miseries,
gushing down the remnants of my being.
I am just shy of new reasons to be indebted
to this prison that always was my home;
But when I do find one
it would echo strong enough to blow away my ruins,
a flatland of white ash i will be
for the generations to stand and fall back on.
None of the stories will meet the page,
none of the tales will greet an ear.
I will be forgotten
but sadly not gone